THIKTEEN 


Stories  of  the  Far  West 


BY 


FOEBES    IIEERMANS 


SYRACUSE   N.    Y. 
C.    W.    BARDEEN    PUBLISHER 

1887 


COPYRIGHT    1*87 

BY 

FORP.ES    HEERMANS. 


/ 


T5S 


THIS  VOLUME 

IS 

DEDICATED 

TO  THE  ONE  PERSON  IN  WHOSE  LITERARY  TASTE  THE  AUTHOR 

HAS  ENTIRE  CONFIDENCE 
—  THE  MAN   WHO  BUYS   IT 


M161718 


BY  WAT  OF  EXPLANATION. 


So  far  as  the  author  knows,  this  book  has  no  par 
ticular  i  mission  ';  it  was  not  even  written  to  c  fill  a 
long  felt  want,'  and  if  any  reader  should  discover  a 
want  that  it  does  fill,  nicely,  he  will  confer  a  favor  on 
the  author  by  notifying  him  to  that  effect — by  mail. 

As  to  the  title— THIRTEEN— the  author  claims 
that  its  merit  lies  in  its  utter  irrelevancy. 

As  to  the  stories  themselves,  he  wishes  to  say  that 
they  are  reports  of  actual  experiences,  written  up  from 
his  note-book,  with  such  changes  in  names,  places  and 
minor  incidents  as  his  personal  safety  seems  to  require. 
Some  attempt  has  also  been  made  to  expurgate  the 
language  sufficiently  to  bring  it  within  civilized  lim 
its,  without  wholly  losing  its  idiomatic  flavor. 

The  author  awaits  the  verdict  of  the  public  with 
trepidation,  but  meekly  submits  his  work— and  starts 
at  once  for  the  FAR  EAST. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

I.     SHINGLES 9 

II.     THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 25. 

III.  ALANASCAR  AND  HIS  UNCLE 41. 

IV.  THE  ASCENT  OF  UNCOMPAHGRE 58. 

V,     THE  DESCENT  OF  UNCOMPAHGRE 76. 

VI.     BURIED  UNDER  AN  AVALANCHE 81 . 

VII.    THE  WEDDING  AT  PUERTA  DA  LUNA 94. 

VIII.     ON  WATCH  WITH  THE  NIGHT  HERD 113. 

IX.    DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 123. 

X.     THE  ASSAYER'S  STORY 159. 

XL     THE  LOG  OF  A  LANDSMAN 197. 

XII.     MOLOKAI— DEATH'S  VALLEY 198. 

XIII.  THE  HOME  OF  EVERLASTING  FIRE..                        ..241. 


I.   SHINGLES. 

There  was  no  question  about  it,  the  mining  camp 
at  Clay's  Gulch  was  wide  awake.  You  might  know 
that  by  looking  at  the  door  of  the  Oasis,  the  principal 
establishment  in  the  place  for  the  dissemination  of  li 
quids.  Through  this  door,  which  stood  wide  open  as 
if  to  let  in  a  little  of  the  pure  air  and  sunshine,  so 
plentiful  without,  so  rare  within,  where  the  fumes  of 
whiskey  and  tobacco  hung  thick  and  fetid,  might  be 
seen  some  of  the  residents  of  Clay's  Gulch ;  men  in 
rough  dress,  whose  stern  faces  that  bright  morning  in 
June  seemed  harder  and  sterner  than  ever.  For  the 
camp  had  been  having  a  night  of  it,  anyone  could  tell 
you  that ;  and  the  consequences  of  that  night  had  been 
unpleasant,  even  to  those  who  were  used  to  that  sort 
of  thing,  as  most  of  the  men  of  the  Gulch  were. 

Bob  Stortles  was  lying  dead  in  what  he  had  called 
his  house,  and  a  little  blue  spot  on  his  left  temple  in 
dicated  clearly  the  cause  of  his  death.  It  needed  no 
coroner's  inquest  to  settle  that ;  there  wasn't  a  man 
in  the  camp  who  couldn't  swear  to  what  Bob  had 
died  of. 

And  that  wasn't  all !  Mrs.  Bob  Stortles  was  lying 
dead  in  the  same  cabin,  and  the  cause  of  her  death  was 
equally  well  known — consumption. 

Bob  was  one  of  those  men  who  failing  to  get  along 
in  the  East  had  gone  West  to  do  better.  That  was 
A 


A 

;     ,10,.  SHINGLES. 

two  years  ago,  and  he  had  as  regularly  failed  there  as 
before.  He  left  a  young  wife  behind  him  to  do  the 
best  she  could  and  take  care  of  the  baby  that  was  born 
a  half  year  after.  Bob  couldn't  help  them  any; 
he  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  himself  from  starv 
ing,  but  when  at  last  she  wrote  that  she  was  dying,  he 
borrowed  the  money  and  sent  for  her  to  come  to  him. 
Shingles  was  the  man  who  lent  it  to  him,  and  Shin 
gles  was  Bob's  partner.  Not  that  Shingles  was  any 
richer  than  Bob,  for  he  wasn't,  but  he  had  a  few  odd 
trinkets  that  he  had  managed  to  save  through  all  his 
ups  and  downs  and — well,  Bob  got  some  money,  and 
Mrs.  Bob  came  to  Clay's  Gulch. 

"  You  see,  old  man,"  said  Bob  to  Shingles,  after  he 
had  sent  for  his  wife,  "  I  look  at  it  in  this  way  ;  the  at 
mosphere  is  Al  for  Sally  in  course,  an'  the  stirrin' 
round  and  me  bein'  with  her'll  brace  her  up.  And 
there's  the  Kid!  it'll  do  lot's  for  the  Kid." 

Shingles  assented  to  this  with  a  nod.  That  was  his 
way.  He  never  had  anything  to  say  ;  a  nod  or  a  shake 
of  the  head  was  a  whole  paragraph  with  him.  He  had 
never  been  heard  to  utter  a  complete  sentence  but  once 
and  that  was  when  he  and  Bob  were  working  the 
"  Ghostly  Hole  "  claim,  and  found  a  nugget.  Bob  used 
to  relate  the  story  in  the  Oasis,  telling  how  Shingles, 
taken  by  surprise  had  exclaimed  : 

"It's  worth  a  thousand,  Bob!" 

It  was  worth  a  thousand  but  it  was  soon  gone.  Bob 
took  it  to  the  bank,  sold  it,  and  the  same  evening  lost 
the  money  to  Major  Burke  at  poker. 

"Who'd  a  thought  the  blamed  fool  held  fours  ?  "  Bob 
said  to  Shingles  next  day,  "  why,  he  drew  three  ! " 


THE   COMPLETE   THING.  11 

Shingles  never  complained  ;  you  really  couldn't  tell 
from  the  looks  of  him  that  he  ever  thought  of  the 
matter.  But  then,  that  was  another  of  Shingle's  pe 
culiarities.  He  wasn't  popular  in  the  camp  ;  he  was 
hardly  known,  while  Bob  was  everybody's  friend. 
Shingles  loved  Bob  in  that  silent,  enduring  way,  the 
strong  sometimes  feel  for  the  weak,  and  Bob  accepted 
the  homage  thus  paid  him,  and  assumed  to  be  Shingles's 
protector. 

When  Mrs.  Bob  and  the  baby  came,  matters  did  not 
improve,  but  rather  grew  worse.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
Shingles,  more  than  once  they  would  have  starved. 
But  all  that  he  did  and  all  that  Bob  tried  to  do,  was 
of  no  avail,  and  three  months  after  she  arrived  Mrs. 
Bob  died.  That  night  Bob  went  into  the  camp  ;  he  was 
in  trouble,  poor  fellow,  and  he  did  what  he'd  often 
done  before,  drowned  his  care  in  rum.  The  story  is 
short.  Inflamed  by  the  liquor,  he  quarreled  with  a 
stranger,  and  making  a  motion  to  draw  his  pistol,  the 
next  moment  Bob  was  with  his  wife  and  the  little  blue 
spot  on  his  temple  told  the  story. 

Then  occurred  an  event  which  for  a  time  caused 
some  little  talk  in  Clay's  Gulch.  The  man  who  shot 
Bob  was  sent  after  him  at  just  midnight.  As  Captain 
Fish,  the  proprietor  of  the  Oasis,  and  the  most  influ 
ential  man  in  the  place,  remarked,  with  grim  humor  : 

"  Taint  the  shootin'  of  him  so  much  that  we  object 
to,  but  it's  the  shootin'  of  him  now,  his  wife  bein* 
dead  an'  him  a  havin'  on  his  hands  a  little  Kid.  In 
this  case  I  don't  see  ez  we  kin  do  less'n  the  complete 
thing." 


SHINGLES. 

And  they  did  '  the  complete  thing,'  and  then  there 
were  three  lying  dead  in  the  camp. 

The  question  of  a  place  of  burial  for  Bob  and  his 
wife,  being  deemed  of  small  importance,  was  left  to 
Shingles  to  decide. 

"  You  know'd  him  best,  you  know,  bein'  his  pard- 
ner,"  said  the  Sheriff,  who  acted  as  Master  of  Cere 
monies,  "  an'  bein'  familiar  with  his  tastes,  I  reckon 
you  can  guess  pretty  close  wrhat  he'd  fancy  for  a 
shaft." 

Shingles  nodded  and  pointed  to  the  claim  he  and 
Bob  had  worked  for  a  time  and  then  abandoned. 

"There!"  he  said. 

"  What !  the  Ghostly  Hole  !  "  said  the  Sheriff. 

Shingles  nodded  again. 

"  Well,  I  dunno  but  you're  right,"  said  the  Sheriff 
after  a  thoughtful  pause,  "  'taint  good  for  nothin' 
else,"  and  so  Bob  and  his  wife  were  buried  there. 

Then  the  question  arose  :  "  What'll  we  do  with  the 
Kid  ?  "  and  a  meeting  of  the  Committee  was  called  to 
settle  it.  Mrs.  Bob  had  been  the  first  woman  in  the 
camp,  and  this  was  the  first  baby,  and  the  novelty  of 
the  situation  made  it  a  perplexing  one.  Promptly  at 
two  o'clock  on  the  day  after  the  funeral,  the  meeting 
came  to  order  in  the  back  room  of  the  Oasis,  Captain 
Fish  in  the  chair.  He  opened  the  proceedings  with 
a  short  speech. 

u  You  know  the  situation,  gen'lemen,"  he  said ; 
"  here's  a  Kid  less'n  two  year  old,  an  orphan,  gen'le 
men  and  poor — "  here  the  committee  nodded  as  one 
man — "  and  I  won't  say  how  it  become  an  orphan,  for 
you  all  know."  The  committee  nodded  again.  "I 


AN    ODD    PAIR.  13 

reckon  we'd  better  send  it  to  the  States,  to  some  of  its 
folks  ;  it'll  die  here.  What  d'ye  say  ?  " 

The  plan  seemed  to  the  committee  the  only  feasible 
one,  and  after  due  deliberation,  Tom  Redway  rose  and 
offered  a  resolution  to  that  effect.  He  was  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Shingles.  E~o  one  had  thought  of 
him  before,  though  it  was  he  who  had  been  taking 
care  of  the  baby  since  its  mother's  death.  He  slowly 
.advanced  to  where  the  committee  sat  and  said  : 

"  Ex-c^s^  me,  boys,  but  it  ain't  goin'  east.  It  can't ! 
It  aint  got  no  folks  nor  no  money.  It's  Bob's  Kid, 
boys,  and  "• — here  his  voice  shook  a  little — "  I  reckon 
to  take  care  of  it  myself." 

The  committee  was  amazed ;  Shingles  had  never  be 
fore  said  so  much — they  did'nt  know  he  had  it  in  him 
— and  for  a  moment  they  were  speechless.  When 
they  recovered  they  burst  into  a  simultaneous  cheer ; 
they  slapped  him  on  the  back ;  they  punched  him  in 
the  ribs ;  they  invited  him  to  drink  and  the  way  then 
most  in  vogue  showed  their  approval  of  his  course. 
By  acclamation  he  was  appointed  guardian  and  the 
Committee  adjourned,  relieved  to  have  the  quesion  so 
easily  settled. 

Then  a  new  life  began  for  Shingles  and  he  had  a 
hard  struggle  to  get  along.  Little  Bob,  'twas  so  he 
called  the  baby  girl,  though  he  always  spoke  of  her  to 
others  as  Miss  Bob,  while  she  was  a  tender  care  to  him, 
troubled  him  greatly.  He  had  to  be  with  her  con 
stantly  ;  he  had  but  little  time  to  work  and  earn  the 
bread  they  both  must  eat,  and  often  he  went  to  bed 
hungry,  though  little  Bob  had  enough,  you  may  be 
sure.  Shingles  daily  grew  poorer,  and  if  the  boys 


14  SHINGLES. 

hadn't  now  and  then  helped  him  out  on  the  sly,  he  and 
little  Bob  would  have  had  a  much  harder  time  than  they 
did,  and  that  was  very  hard  indeed.  But  through  all 
his  troubles  Shingles  never  flinched  ;  he  had  devoted 
his  life  to  the  child  and  he  did  his  duty  as  he  under 
stood  it — manfully. 

The  odd  association  of  Shingles  and  Bob  at  first 
seemed  very  strange  to  the  camp,  but  in  a  little  while 
the  two  became  an  institution.  No  body  ever  saw 
Shingles  without  Bob  or  Bob  without  Shingles ;  they 
were  always  together.  Yet  still  his  luck  held  on  the 
same.  The  only  change  noticed  in  him  was  that  he 
talked  more  than  formerly. 

"What's  come  over  you,  Shingles?"  Jack  Farmer 
asked  him  one  day;  "  You  talk  so  much;  didn't  use  to!" 

"It's  along  of  Miss  Bob,"  Shingles  answered,. 
"  somebody's  got  to  learn  her  to  talk  so  I  just  thought 
I  would." 

Jack  told  with  great  effect,  every  night  for  a  week,, 
to  a  never  tiring  audience  in  the  Oasis,  of  a  little  ad 
venture  he  had  met  with,  "  up  to  Shingleses  !  " 

"  Yes  siree !  you'd  orter  been  there,"  he  used  to 
say.  "  I'm  a  married  man  myself,  m'wife  bein'  in 
the  States,  an'  I  know  what's  what.  I  just  looked  in 
th'  door  an'  I'll  be  jiggered  if  there  wa'nt  old  Shin 
gles  down  on  his  knees  before  the  fire  a  washin' 
that  baby  like  he  was  its  mother."  [Here  Jack  was 
always  interrupted  by  murmurs  of  approval.] 
was  as  funny  as  four  kings.  An'  there  was  the  Kid 
a  laughin'  and  a  carryin'  on,  an'  old  Shingles  talkin' 
to  it  an'  bein  so  soft  an'  smooth — and  every  now  'an 
then  sir,  that  Kid  would  just  splash  a  lot  of  water  up 


15 

into  old  String's  face  an'  laugh,  an'  then  he'd  laugh  too 
an5 — well  it  beat  me,  that's  all— it  beat  me,  clean." 

The  prosperity  of  Clay's  Gulch  meanwhile  steadily 
increased;  it  was  mentioned  in  the  Denver  papers 
as  a  remarkable  example  of  a  prosperous  mining 
camp ;  people  nocked  to  it  from  all  parts,  and  by 
the  time  Little  Bob  was  four  years  old  the  place  had 
undergone  great  changes.  And  with  the  changes  in 
the  place  had  come  changes  in  Bob.  She  had  learned 
to  walk,  to  talk,  and  to  think  in  a  childish  way.  She 
had  never  been  sick  a  day,  and  the  out-door  life  she 
led  made  her  hardy  and  strong.  By  degrees  Shingles 
began  to  get  ahead  a  little  and  prosper,  for  now  that 
Bob  could  take  care  of  herself  he  devoted  more  time 
to  his  work.  But  still  he  kept  her  closely  by  him  ; 
he  seemed  unhappy  when  at  rare  and  short  intervals  she 
was  out  of  his  sight.  The  two  were  the  most  popular 
persons  in  camp ;  he  because  of  his  wonderful  care 
and  tender  love  for  the  child  and  she  because — well, 
because  she  was  Little  Bob.  She  had  a  free,  off-hand 
way  with  her  that  hit  the  fancy  of  the  men  and  con 
trasted  oddly  with  Shingles'  taciturnity.  She  always 
called  him  Shingles,  he  had  taught  her  to  do  so.  She 
was  not  afraid  of  anyone,  and  she  used  the  slang  of 
the  camp  in  an  easy  way  that  sounded  odd  yet  attract 
ive,  while  her  grammar  was  that  of  Shingles.  It  got 
to  be  a  regular  thing  for  the  men  to  stroll  out  to  call 
on  Bob  and  Shingles  every  pleasant  Sunday  afternoon, 
to  inquire  how  they  were  getting  along.  Shingles 
received  them  gravely ;  he  realized  that  he  was  of 
minor  importance,  and  he  made  no  effort  to  entertain 
the  guests,  but  let  Bob  play  the  important  part. 


16  SHINGLES. 

"  Me  an'  Shin'les,"  she  would  tell  her  admirers, 
"  dot  a  dood  mine,  but  we  need  some  more  tapital, 
doesn't  we  Shin'les  ? " 

And  he  would  nod  his  head  slowly,  while  the  visit 
ors  would  roar  with  laughter  and  slap  their  legs 
resoundingly,  to  express  their  amusement. 

As  Shingles  began  to  get  ahead,  though  it  was  very 
slowly  at  first,  he  became  extravagant  in  the  direction 
of  Bob.  No  one  ever  went  to  Denver  from  the  camp 
without  having  some  little  commission  to  execute  for 
him.  In  this  way  Bob  became  the  owner,  among 
many  other  things,  of  a  gold  watch,  massive  cameo 
.ear-rings  and  brooch,  and  a  pug  dog,  the  last  her  great 
est  treasure.  Once  when  Colonel  Moody  went  east, 
"for  the  purpose  of  enlisting  idle  capital  in  develop 
ing  the  vast  mineral  resources  of  the  country,"  Shin 
gles  asked  him  to  buy  Bob  a  suit  of  clothes.  "  An'  it 
ought  to  be  the  la-test  thing  for  style,"  he  added.  He 
had  always  dressed  Bob  as  a  boy,  because  he  had  once 
heard  her  express  profound  contempt  for  girls  in  gen 
eral.  The  Colonel  willingly  accepted  the  commission 
and  brought  back  with  him  four  suits  of  boy's  cloth 
ing,  of  different  sizes  and  of  the  most  elaborate  pat 
terns  imaginable. 

"I  reckoned  Bob  would  grow  some,  you  know,"  he 
said  half  apologetically,  as  he  handed  the  bundle  to 
Shingles,  "they  most  generally  do,  so  I  just  allowed  for 
it.  There  aint  nothin'  to  pay,"  and  off  he  walked, 
leaving  Shingles  his  firm  friend  from  that  day. 

As  the  camp  grew  and  prospered,  its  appearance 
underwent  a  change  ;  it  began  t0  wear  a  settled  look ; 
permanent  buildings  replaced  the  old  wooden  struc- 


BOB    WONT    GO.  17 

tures ;  a  railroad  at  last  reached  there  and  Clay's 
Gulch  became  a  town  of  importance.  With  these 
changes  came  women,  and  among  them  Jack  Farmer's 
wife  who,  when  she  heard  from  Jack  the  story  of 
Shingles  and  Little  Bob  went  straight  to  see  them. 
She  pitied  Little  Bob,  and  she  pitied  poor  Shingles 
too,  and  she  urged  him  to  send  Bob  to  her,  to  live 
with  her  children.  She  was  one  of  the  kind  you  some 
times  find  in  just  such  places ;  a  woman  you  could 
trust  your  soul  with  and  have  no  fear. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Shingles,"  she  said,  "the  lit 
tle  girl  would  be  better  away  from  the — that  is,  if  she 
could  be  with  children  of  her  own  age,"  and  as  she 
spoke  her  kindly  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she 
thought  of  the  child's  unhappy  lot.  She  didn't  know 
Shingles  then. 

Poor  Shingles  was  upset ;  he  had  never  been  called 
Mr.  Shingles  before,  and  the  thought  of  parting  with 
Bob  quite  unmanned  him.  His  life  had  been  a  lonely 
one  until  she  came  ;  he  had  never  loved  or  been  loved 
before,  and  as  he  sat  there,  Little  Bob  quietly  perched 
on  his  knee  and  quite  unconscious  of  what  was  going 
on,  two  big  tears  rolled  down  his  rough  cheeks.  Then 
he  seized  her  in  his  arms  and  clasping  her  tight  to  his 
breast,  kissed  her  silently. 

She  looked  up  in  surprise, 

"  What  oo  tryin'  for,  Shingles?"  she  asked. 

Shingles  shook  his  head ;  he  couldn't  speak. 

"  Oh  !  oo  is  ;  I  seed  oo  !  " 

"  Bob  ;  "  said  Shingles,  at  length  ;  "  this  lady  wants 
to  take  you  with  her  to  play  with  her  little  girls. 
Will  you  got" 


18  SHINGLES. 

"  To  teep  me  always  ? "  she  said,  her  eyes  staring 
large  and  round  at  Shingles. 

"  Yes— always.     Will  you  go  ?  " 

"  No-o- ! "  cried  Bob,  and  the  next  instant  she  was 
sobbing  on  his  shoulder.  He  didn't  attempt  to  console 
her ;  indeed,  he  didn't  know  how  to.  He  had  never 
seen  her  cry  like  that  before ;  it  troubled  him  and  al 
most  before  he  knew  it  he  and  Bob  were  in  tears  to 
gether.  Mrs.  Farmer,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do, 
left  them  there,  thinking  the  time  had  not  yet  came  to 
part  them. 

And  then  another  change  was  noticed  in  Shingles. 
From  being  careless  in  his  dress  he  became  noted  for 
his  fine  attire.  No  one  who  knew  him  ever  intimated 
that  this  was  remarked.  It  was  generally  understood 
that  it  was  on  little  Bob's  account. 

But  Brown,  the  new  proprietor  of  the  Oasis — and 
successor  to  Captain  Fish,  (who  departed  this  life 
through  holding  three  aces  and  two  kings  against  his 
opponent's  three  kings  and  two  aces  and  being  a  little 
slow  with  his  pistol),  rallied  Shingles  a  little. 

"What's  up,  boy?"  he  said,  "  goin'  courtin' ? 
Where  does  she  live  ?  " 

Shingles  did  not  take  this  in  the  wildly  humorous 
way  Brown  meant  it — he  never  did  take  things  in  a 
humorous  way — and  passed  on  without  a  nod. 

That  night  Brown  told  the  story  in  the  Oasis,  giving 
it  all  the  droll  emphasis  he  was  capable  of,  but  it  fell 
flat. 

"I'll  tell  you  why  he  looked  like  a  gentleman; 
growled  Tom  Redwajr.  "  Little  Bob  was  five  years 
old  last  week  ;  remember  that !  " 


19 

Every  Sunday  Shingles  might  be  seen,  clean  shaven 
and  dressed  in  his  finest  suit  of  checkered  clothesr 
seated  in  a  front  pew  of  the  largest  church  in  Clay's 
Gulch,  and  little  Bob  was  always  with  him.  If  the 
weather  was  bad  he  carried  her  all  the  way  in  his  arms,, 
or  as  she  much  preferred  to  ride,  on  his  back. 

"  I  didn't  think  a  little  gospel'd  do  Miss  Bob  any 
harm,"  he  said,  apologetically,  to  the  minister  who 
called  on  him  one  day.  As  if  to  develop  this  theory 
he  every  Sunday  afternoon  read  to  Bob  parts  of  the 
Bible,  spelling  the  words  slowly  out  and  expounding 
their  meaning  in  a  manner  suited,  as  he  thought,  to 
her  youthful  intelligence. 

Captain  Peters,  a  deputy  sheriff,  and  popularly 
known  as  "  Little  Casino,"  related  with  great  glee  at 
the  Oasis  one  Sunday  evening,  (at  which  time,  in 
deference  to  public  opinion  no  liquor  was  sold  between 
seven  and  half-past,  and  no  game  allowed  but  poker),, 
how  he  had  that  day  called  on  Bob. 

"  There  was  old  Shing,  with  the  kid  in  his  arms,, 
an'  her  fast  asleep.  There  he  was,  sawin'  away  about 
Moses  and  'Li-jah,  and  his  kull  congregation  asleep.. 
I  most  bust  when  I  looked  but  I  didn't  dare  laugh 
fear  I'd  wake  Bob,  so  I  just  came  away  silent." 

All  this  time  Shingles  kept  pegging  along  in  his 
mine,  not  making  much,  but  still  making  a  little.  If 
he  hadn't  been  Shingles,  everyone  would  have  laughed 
at  him  for  persisting  in  working  a  claim  that  had 
never  been  a  good  one  and  could  not,  by  any  possi 
bility,  improve. 

"  What  you  wastin'  your  time  over  that  hole  for  ? " 
asked  the  sheriff,  himself  known  as  "  Big  Casino  "  ; 


20  SHINGLES. 

"  there's  lots  better  ore  all  round  ye.  Give  it  up,  man, 
and  stake  out  a  new  claim." 

But  Shingles  shook  his  head. 

"  Can't  do  it  Sherf  ;  this  claim  belonged  to  Old  Bob 
.an'  now  its  Miss  Bob's,  an'  I,  bein'  her  trus-tee,  got  to 
work  it  fer  her." 

So  he  kept  on,  sometimes  doing  well,  sometimes 
poorly ;  working  hard  in  the  tunnel  all  day  and  sit 
ting  up  half  the  night  over  his  books.  He  had  taught 
Bob  her  letters  and  she  was  almost  through  words  of 
one  syllable.  He  found  it  necessary  to  study  hard, 
lest  she  should  get  ahead  of  him.  Still  he  persevered, 
for  he  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  her  going  away  to 
.school  yet  awhile. 

And  now  occurred  an  event  which  Clay's  Gulch 
remembered  for  many  a  day.  Bob  was  a  little  more 
than  six  years  old  and  Shingles — well,  never  mind 
how  old  he  was,  no  one  ever  knew,  not  even  Shingles 
himself.  It  was  a  warm,  clear  day  in  May;  matters 
had  not  been  going  very  well  with  Shingles  for  some 
time,  in  fact  they  had  been  going  very  badly.  Once 
or  twice  he  had  almost  lost  courage  and  in  his  heart 
he  believed  the  Sheriff  was  right  and  his  mine — Bob's 
mine — was  played  out.  Each  night  for  a  month  past, 
-as  he  left  the  tunnel,  he  felt  low  spirited,  and  each 
night  as  he  caught  sight  of  Bob  he  forgot  his  trouble 
and  answered  her  question  : 

"  How's  our  mine,  Shingles  ? "  with  a  cheerful : 
"  All  right,  little  Bob." 

On  this  particular  morning  he  felt  unusually  down 
hearted,  but  he  didn't  pause  for  that  and  entered  the 
tunnel.  He  did  not  appear  at  noon,  and  Bob  went  to 


IN    THE    TUNNEL.  21 

look  for  him.  Such  a  thing  as  his  being  late  had  never 
occurred  before  and  she  was  surprised  and  troubled. 

"  Shin — gles  !  "  she  called  at  the  mouth  of  the  tun 
nel,  and  "  Shin — gles  !  "  was  echoed  out  to  her  again, 
but  that  was  all.  No  cheery  u  Ay  !  ay !  little  Bob  !  " 
but  only  "Shin — gles"  thrice  repeated  by  the  lone 
some  echoes  of  the  rocks.  Bob  was  troubled  ;  she  was 
quite  old  enough  to  think  for  herself,  yet  she  couldn't 
understand  it.  She  ventured  a  little  way  into  the  tun 
nel,  cold  and  damp,  and  called  again  :  "  Shingles  !  " 
and  still  the  echoes  only  answered.  Her  heart  beat 
fast.  She  knew  he  must  be  in  the  tunnel,  and  again 
she  advanced  a  few  steps  and  called,  and  again  she 
heard  no  answer  but  her  own  voice.  Frightened  now, 
she  fancied  she  saw  in  the  darkness  ahead  of  her  all  sorts 
of  fearful  things  ;  goblins,  ghosts  and  demons ;  the  sto 
ries  of  elves  and  sprites  she  used  to  delight  in  now  came 
back  to  her  mind  and  she  shuddered  in  terror.  The 
slow  trickle  of  the  water  down  the  sides  of  the  tunnel 
seemed  like  the  hiss  of  snakes,  and  a  piece  of  earth, 
falling  from  the  roof,  sounded  like  the  flutter  of  in 
visible  wings.  Still  she  kept  on  ;  Shingles  was  in  the 
tunnel  somewhere  and  she  must  find  him ;  and  she 
went  on  till  she  could  go  on  no  further.  Across  her 
path  lay  a  pile  of  rock ;  the  tunnel  ended  and  yet- 
where  was  he  ?  She  called  again  and  waited  for  an 
answer,  and  again  the  hollow  echoes  mocked  her. 
But  in  another  instant  she  heard  a  sound  that  made 
her  heart  bound  with  fear ;  she  started  for  the  light, 
yet  paused  again  to  listen.  This  time  the  sound  was 
plainer — it  was  Shingles'  voice  : 

"  Bob,  you  there  ?  "  she  heard,  hollow  and  strange. 


SHINGLES. 

"  Oh  Shingles !  "  cried  Bob,  "  where  are  you  ?  " 

"In  here,"  said  Shingles,  "I'm — ketched — Bob, 
run  fur — the  boys,"  and  almost  before  he  had  spoken 
Bob  was  gone.  Like  a  flash  she  darted  from  the  tun 
nel's  mouth,  past  the  goblins,  past  the  elves,  out  into 
the  blessed  sunlight  and  then — where  ?  The  nearest 
mine  was  a  mile  away,  but  Bob  didn't  think  of  the 
distance.  "  Shingles  was  ketched  !  "  that  was  enough 
and  away  she  dashed  down  the  rough  path.  It  was  well 
for  Bob  now  that  her  life  had  been  spent  in  the  moun 
tains,  and  it  was  well  for  Shingles  too.  On  she  ran, 
never  pausing,  never  heeding,  scarcely  seeing  where 
she  went,  yet  never  stumbling  nor  falling — she  couldn't 
fall ;  wasn't  Shingles  ketched,  and  musn't  she  get  him 
out?  In  an  incredibly  short  time  she  reached  the 
other  mine — it  was  Jack  Farmer's — gasping  and  sob 
bing,  her  cheeks  lined  with  tears.  Jack  saw  her  com 
ing  ;  he  knew  something  was  wrong  and  he  ran  to 
meet  her. 

"  Hullo  !  Bob  !  What's  up  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Shingles — ketched  !  "  was  all  she  could  say  as  she 
dropped  down  crying  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 
But  Jack  didn't  need  to  be  told  any  more.  With  a 
shout  he  summoned  his  three  companions,  and  point 
ing  to  Bob,  silently  explained  it  all.  Then,  picking 
her  up  in  his  great,  strong  arms,  he  started  on  a  run 
for  Shingles'  mine,  followed  by  his  men. 

"  There  !  there  Bob !  "  he  said  consolingly,  "  it's  all 
right ;  we'll  have  him  out;  everybody  gits  ketched  now 
an'  then." 

He  couldn't  talk  very  much  ;  he  was  running  too  fast, 
and  Bob  cried  herself  out  on  his  kindly  shoulder. 


MAKING   A    WILL.  23 

At  last  they  found  Shingles,  or  what  was  left  of  him, 
and  carried  him  out  into  the  daylight.  He  was  badly 
hurt ;  the  doctor  who  had  been  summoned  from  the 
town  shook  his  head  when  he  saw  him,  and  whispered 
something  to  Jack.  He  nodded  grimly ;  he  knew  as 
well  as  the  doctor  it  was  all  up  with  Shingles ;  he  had 
seen  that  sort  of  thing  before.  Shingles  watched  their 
faces  with  that  hungry  look  he  had  so  often  worn  be 
fore  little  Bob  had  come  into  his  life.  Then  he  spoke 
— slowly  and  painfully. 

"I  reckon — i  und'stand  ye — I'm  ketched — in  earn 
est,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  gravely,  "  I  think  I  ought 
to  tell  you  you  cannot  get  well." 

Just  then  one  of  the  men  who  had  rescued  Shingles 
whispered  something  to  Jack.  He  started  and  en 
tered  the  tunnel. 

"You  had  better  make  your  will,"  continued  the 
doctor,  "  If  you  haven't  done  so," 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Shingles,  the  cold  sweat  stand 
ing  on  his  forehead  ;  "  I  done  it  — long  ago — I  give — 
and — bequeath  to — my  beloved  ward — Miss  Bob — 
Stortles— the  hull  of — my  worldly  goods — where — 
ever  found — and — may — God —  have  mercy — on  my 
soul— Amen— taint  much — I'm  leavin' — ye  Bob — 
don't  cry  Bob — we  all — got  to  go — sometime — I  done 
my — duty  by  ye  Bob — 'cordin'  as — I  seen  it — 'taint 
much  but  its— all  yourri— an'  " 

Just  then  Jack  returned,  greatly  excited.  "  Shin 
gles  !  "  he  cried,  "do  you  know  what  that  cave  did 
for  you?" 

Shingles  shook  his  head  ;  he  knew  well  enough  ;  it 


24  SHINGLES. 

had  done  him  to  death,  but  lie  didn't  want  to  say  so 
before  Bob. 

"  It  has  made  you  rich,"  said  Jack;  "  it  has  showed 
up  the  vein,  at  last,  and  you're  a  millionaire." 

A  happy  smile  lit  up  Shingle's  pale  face.  "'Taint 
fur  me — its  fur  Bob,"  he  said.  "  She's  the — million 
aire — I'm  dyin' — Jack — but  it's — all  right — Bob's  rich 
— I've  made  you  an'  your  wife — guardeens,  Jack — 
you'll  be  kind  to — Bob,  won't  you  ?  I'm  happy — 
now."  Bob  was  sobbing  like  a  child.  "  Kiss  me — 
Bob  dear  — an'  I  give— an'  bequeath  to  my — beloved 
ward — Miss — Bob— Stortles  the — hull  of — my  worldly 
— goods — wherever — found — and  may —  God — have — 
mercy  on — my—  "  and  Shingles  was  dead. 

That  night  Jack  told  the  story  to  the  men  who 
went  to  his  house.  Everyone  in  the  camp  wanted  to 
hear  of  it  and  before  he  had  gotten  half  through  the 
rough  men  were  blinking  their  eyes  and  rubbing  their 
coat  sleeves  across  their  faces. 

"  There  was  them  two,"  said  Jack,  his  voice  grow 
ing  a  little  husky  as  he  went  on,  "  him — old  Shingles 
— lying  there  dead,  an'  little  Bob  kneelin'  by  his  side 
an'  sayin'  the  prayers  he  had  taught  her.  It  was 
mor'n  I  could  stand,"  and  he  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  cried  like  a  child. 


II.  THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

There  were  five  of  us  in  the  coach,  a  huge,  solid 
affair,  resembling  an  immense  box.  It  rested  on 
enormous  leather  straps  that  allowed  it  to  swing  with 
a  motion  that  is  best  described  by  saying  it  was  diag 
onal,  though  in  fact  it  was  not  diagonal  at  all.  One 
moment  we  found  ourselves  sliding  toward  the  fore 
most  corner  on  the  left,  as  the  wheel  on  that  side 
dropped  heavily  into  some  almost  bottomless  hole ; 
the  next  instant  we  would  be  flying  with  pleasant 
unanimity  through  the  rear  window  on  the  right,  and 
again,  seeking  to  force  an  outlet  through  the  roof  or 
floor.  But  the  resultant  of  tkese  motions,  put  together, 
added  and  divided,  is  most  nearly  described  by  the 
word  diagonal  and  so — diagonal  it  is. 

All  five  of  the  passengers  were  riding  inside,  for  it 
was  a  day  in  November — cold  and  cloudy,  and  a  light 
snow  was  spasmodically  falling,  as  if  really  uncertain, 
whether  to  stop  or  go  on,  but  on  the  whole,  rather  in 
favor  of  going  on,  it  being  a  characteristic  of  western 
habits  never  to  give  up  anything  for  any  cause  what 
ever,  once  it  was  began.  So,  while  a  seat  outside 
just  at  that  time  was  better  than  no  seat  at  all, 
it  was  by  no  means  so  desirable  as  a  seat  inside^ 
which  is  coming  it  pretty  strong  against  the  outside, 
certainly. 

B   l  (25) 


26          THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

The  road  we  were  to  traverse  led  through  the  moun 
tains  of  Colorado,  from  the  mining  camp  of  Green 
wood  (though  why  Greenwood  none  can  say — it  was 
way  above  timber  line)  to  Leadville.  It  was  fairly 
good  wheeling,  as  that  word  is  understood  in  the 
Rockies,  but  six  stout  mules  had  all  they  could  do 
to  manage  the  coach.  One  moment  they  were  groan 
ing  and  straining  up  some  steep  incline;  the  next 
fairly  lifted  from  their  feet  as  we  dashed  furiously 
down  a  hill,  our  speed  only  partially  checked  by  the 
brake,  which  Tommy  the  driver  would  frantically 
apply. 

Everyone  in  the  west  has  a  title  of  some  sort,  no 
matter  whether  he  has  a  right  to  it  or  not,  and  the  five 
men  in  the  coach  were  known  as  the  Colonel,  the  Major, 
the  Judge,  the  Doctor  and  the  Professor.  It  is  sur 
prising  how  soon  one  becomes  acquainted  with  his 
companions  in  such  a  place.  Whether  this  is  due  to 
the  commonalty  of  sensations  that  govern  the  passen 
gers,  as  the  vehicle  lurches  to  the  right  or  left,  or  the 
sociability  of  the  men  themselves,  I  can't  say.  The 
fact  remains  however,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
after  we  had  started,  I  was  on  familiar  terras  with  the 
past  history,  present  occupation,  size  of  pile,  and  name 
of  each  of  my  fellow  travelers. 

On  the  coach  was  an  Express  box,  said  to  contain 
$30,000  in  bullion,  the  product  of  the  Greenwood 
mines.  In  a  rack  near  the  driver's  feet  hung  two 
Colt's  revolvers  and  a  Winchester  rifle.  The  road  was 
considered  safe  enough,  for  no  robbery  had  occurred 
there  since  the  camp  had  been  in  existence,  still  the 
stage  company  preferred  to  take  reasonable  pre 
cautions.  Hence  the  weapons. 


WESTERN    EXHORTATION.  27 

After  we  had  exchanged  our  names  and  such  parts 
of  our  personal  history  as  we  felt  free  to  give,  we  re 
lapsed  into  silence.  The  Westerner,  although  a  soci 
able,  is  not  a  talkative  animal ;  he  converses  in  heats. 
For  a  time  our  quiet  was  unbroken,  save  by  the 
groaning  and  creaking  of  the  coach,  the  cracking  of 
the  driver's  whip  and  his  rapidly  uttered  oaths. 

Perhaps  it  is  well  that  justice  can  never  be  done — 
in1  print — to  the  profanity  of  the  western  mule  driver. 
It  is  as  impossible  to  describe  as  the  singing  of  some 
beautiful  aria  by  some  sweet  voiced  singer.  Not  that 
the  two  can  be  compared  in  any  way  ;  I  merely  wished 
to  illustrate  the  utter  inadequacy  of  words  in  type  to 
represent  the  sounds. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  one  of  Tommy's  flowery  peri 
ods,  (which  came  to  our  rescue  when  the  coach,  stuck 
fast  at  the  foot  of  a  veritable  Hill  of  Difficulty,  had 
at  last  been  dragged  up  by  the  mules,  inspired  by  the 
out-pouring)  that  the  gentlemen  occupying  the  mid 
dle  seat — left,  broke  the  silence.  We  knew  him  as 
Professor  Blood,  "the  hull  owner  of  the  Blackeye 
mine  of  Greenwood,  an'  several  others."  It  was  at 
the  close  of  Tommy's  exhortation  I  say,  which  began 
softly  arid  slowly,  then  gradually  increased  in  volume, 
speed  and  power,  until  the  flow  was  simply  overwhelm 
ing,  that  the  '  Professor '  remarked  pleasantly  : 

"  Tommy  seems  to  swear  tol'able  easy,  I'm  thinkin'. 
'Tis  a  great  gift ;  wonderful  what  'twill  do  sometimes. 
When  I  was  a  teamin'  it  up  to  Leadville,  I  would  a 
bet  willin'  I  could  cuss  a  dead  mule  up  a  six  hundred 
foot  grade,  with  a  load,  and  all  by  the  parts  o'  speech. 
It's  just  like  anythin'  else  though,  takes  practice." 


28         THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

"  Those  was  great  days,"  he  went  on  with  a  ret 
rospective  sigh,  "  great  days.  We  was  gettiri'  twenty 
and  thirty  cents  a  pound  fur  stuff,  an'  makin'  slathers 
o'  money  :  an'  losin'  it  too,"  he  added  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  'member  comin'  down  over  the  divide  one  night 
alone,  with  three  thousan'  dollars  in  my  pocket,  when 
a  d — d  road  agent  held  me  up  an'  cleaned  me  out. 
I  was  pretty  blamed  mad  but  I  had  to  ante." 

"  I'd  like  to  know,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  how  one  or 
two  men  can  stop  and  rob  a  dozen,  all  well  armed. 
It  looks  as  if  they  had  no  nerve.  I  don't  think  I'd 
stand  it." 

The  Judge  whistled  softly  at  this  remark ;  the 
Major  smiled  and  made  a  pretence  of  wiping  the  win 
dow  with  his  coat  sleeve  and  looking  out ;  the  Colonel 
expectorated  mournfully.  The  Professor  alone  was 
calm. 

"  Pardner,"  said  he  looking  the  Doctor  in  the  eye, 
and  tapping  him  gently  on  the  knee  as  he  spoke,  "  was 
you  ever  held  up  ?  " 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  I  thought  likely,"  said  the  Professor  significantly. 
"  Just  look  here :  when  you  are  stopped  you  ante 
quietly  and  perlitely.  It's  runnin'  too  much  of  a  risk 
to  object.  If  any  man  is  lookin'  fur  a  chance  to  climb 
the  golden  stairs,  through  barm'  of  his  buzzum  for  his 
fellow  creatures — without  compensation — let  him.  It 
aint  in  my  line,  I'm  pretty  sure,  an'  so  I  say,  if  ever 
you're  held  up  you  jest  fork  without  any  back  talk — 
it's  really  the  cheapest,  and  a  long  way  the  safest." 

These  sentiments  seemed  to  meet  with  universal 
approval  from  the  other  occupants  of  the  coach,  and 


29 

the  Doctor,  quite  crushed  by  the  weight  of  opinion 
against  him  relapsed  into  silence. 

After  this  the  conversation  became  desultory.  Now 
-and  then  a  passenger  would  volunteer  a  remark 
which  sometimes  elicited  a  reply  and  sometimes  did 
not.  Often,  as  the  road  led  up  some  steep  incline, 
we  would  get  out  and  walk,  to  restore,  by  exercise, 
the  circulation  in  our  benumbed  limbs.  Twice  the 
coach  stopped  at  relay  stations,  where  fresh  mules 
were  harnessed  in  the  place  of  the  tired  out  animals. 
The  stations  were  nothing  more  than  rough  log  stables, 
with  accomodations  for  the  men  who  fed  and  cared 
for  the  mules. 

The  snow  had  been  falling  all  the  afternoon  in  fine 
flakes,  and  had  spread  over  the  earth  a  thin  white 
cover  that  partially  hid  the  roughness  of  the  moun 
tains  and  whitened  the  light  that  came  through  the 
clouds,  into  which  we  sometimes  drove.  The  road 
was  becoming  very  heavy  and  our  progress  slow,  when 
to  our  relief  the  coach,  about  four  o'clock,  entered  a 
small  park  of  a  few  hundred  acres  and  pulled  up  in 
front  of  Sampson's — twelve  miles  from  Leadville. 
While  fresh  mules  were  being  harnessed  we  alighted, 
and  stepped  into  the  room  that  served  as  bar,  office, 
parlor  and  reading  room,  for  Sampson's  was  a  hotel  as 
well  as  a  relay  station. 

The  establishment  was  owned  and  managed  by  Mr. 
Sampson  and  his  wife  Almiry,  or  to  put  it  in  another 
way,  Sampson's  and  Sampson  himself  were  controlled 
by  Almiry.  A  modern  Delilah  she,  who,  when  she 
married  Sampson  had,  speaking  figuratively,  clipped 
his  locks  and  left  him  deprived  of  all  ambition.  There 


30  THE    WIDOW    OF    THE    LATE    SMITH. 

was  a  rumor  current  that  Sampson  drank,  a  rumor  not 
altogether  without  foundation,  since  no  one  had  ever 
seen  him  entirely  sober.  His  sole  duty  was  to  tend 
bar,  and  when  not  occupied  in  ministering  to  the 
liquid  wants  of  others,  he  was  looking  after  himself. 
There  was  but  one  beverage  sold  at  Sampson's — whis 
key — though  there  hung  upon  the  wall  back  of  the 
rough  bar,  an  illuminated  card,  setting  forth  in  fly- 
specked  characters,  the  superior  merits  of  Hall's 
Jamaica  Ginger.  But  as  for  the  Ginger,  that  was 
not  to  be  had.  Nor  were  there  any  indications,  be 
yond  dusty  lithographs  nailed  askew  to  the  wooden 
partitions,  that  Soda  Water,  Seltzer,  or  Mumm's 
Extra  Dry,  were  procurable  on  demand.  And  so  it 
was  fortunate  that  the  systems  of  those  passengers 
who  needed  stimulation,  craved  whiskey  only,  for 
that  was  positively  all  there  was.  On  the  sticky  bar 
stood  a  half-dozen  thick,  dirty  glasses,  side  by  side 
with  the  long-necked  bottle,  half  filled  with  an  amber 
fluid,  while  a  rude  sign  fixed  to  the  wall  just  over 
Sampson's  bald  and  somewhat  inflamed  head,  set  forth 
in  terse,  though  rather  profane  terms,  the  business 
principles  of  the  establishment,  to  wit : 

"IN  GOD  WE  TRUST; 
ALL   OTHERS  PAY  CASH." 

We  had  not  noticed  at  first,  in  the  dim  light  of  the 
room,  the  figure  of  a  woman,  clad  in  deep  black  and 
wearing  a  heavy  veil  drawn  over  her  face.  She  sat  in 
a  dark  corner  and  seemed  to  shrink  from  observation. 
But  when  Tommy  entered,  after  looking  to  his  cattle, 
and  had  fortified  his  nerves  with  four  fingers  of  the 
"  reg'lar  thing,"  swallowed  without  a  murmur,  Al- 


LOVELY    WOMAN.  31 

miry  took  him  aside  and  engaged  him  in  earnest  con 
versation,  and  her  gestures  then  for  the  first  time 
directed  our  attention  to  the  woman. 

Our  halt  was  necessarily  short  and  we  were  soon 
back  in  the  coach ;  the  mules  had  been  changed 
and  we  were  ready  to  start.  But  Tommy  lingered, 
and  when  at  length  he  appeared  at  the  door,  seemed 
in  no  hurry.  He  stood  there,  slowly  drawing  on  his 
gloves  and  surveying  the  scene  with  a  carelessly  criti 
cal  eye  and  an  expression  of  countenance  that  seemed 
to  indicate  that  as  for  him,  if  he  were  to  be  given  the 
chance,  he  could  make  a  good  deal  better  world  than 
this  one — easy.  In  his  mouth  was  a  cigar,  tipped  up 
at  such  an  angle  that  the  glowing  end  nearly  touched 
the  wide  brim  of  his  sombrero.  The  Major,  irrever 
ently  inspired,  voiced  the  sentiments  of  the  party 
when  he  remarked,  in  a  drawling  tone : 

"  I  reckon  that  after  bein'  the  angel  Gabriel,  for 
pure  glory  an'  so  forth  I'd  ruther  be  a  driver  to  a 
coach,  than  most  anythin' !  " 

Just  then  there  appeared  in  the  doorway  the  lady 
in  black,  whom  Thomas  gallantly  offered  his  arm  to 
and  thus  escorted  to  the  coach.  As  they  approached, 
the  Colonel  gave  a  little  groan.  ""We're  goin'  to 
have  lovely  woman  along  with  us,"  he  said,  plain 
tively.  Consternation  was  depicted  on  each  face 
when  the  coach  door  was  opened  and  Tommy  looking 
in,  remarked  authoritatively  :  "  Sorry  gen'lemen,  but 
I  shall  hev  to  trouble  you.  Here's  a  lady  goin'  to 
Leadville  an'  she's  goin'  inside.  Jump  in,  marm !  " 
and  in  the  young  woman  jumped  with  remarkable 


32         THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

lightness,  and  took  the  vacant  seat  in  the  forward 
corner. 

"  Cornel,  you'll  look  after  her,"  said  Tommy  at  the 
door ;  "  she's  in  my  charge.  Widder  of  Smith,  she 
is ;  him  that  was  killed  down  to  the  Walker  mine  last 
month,  but  she  don't  savvy  a  word  of  English, 
bein'  French.  You  know'd  Smith  didn't  ye,  Cornel  ? " 

"Yes,  I  know'd  him  well  enough,  but  I  never 
know'd  he  had  a  widder.  I'll  look  after  her — in 
English,"  growled  the  Colonel,  and  the  door  slammed 
and  the  stage  rolled  ahead. 

As  we  pulled  out  the  clouds  parted  for  an  instant  and 
a  bright  ray  of  sunlight  lit  up  the  coach,  striking  full 
upon  the  dark  veil  of  our  new  companion.  It  made 
briefly  visible  the  outlines  of  her  face,  and  those  of 
us  who  were  fortunate  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  it  were 
convinced  that  the  lady  had  great  beauty.  Indeed,  the 
Judge,  who  had  a  happy  facility  of  expression,  ac 
quired  from  a  long,  though  not  lucrative  practice  at 
the  bar,  leaned  over  to  the  Doctor  and  whispered  in 
tones  of  fervent  admiration  : 

"  She's  as  pretty  as  Cle-op-e-try,  by  Jove ! "  to 
which  the  Doctor  responded  with  an  assenting  nod  of 
much  vigor. 

Nowhere  in  the  world  is  a  lady  more  certain  of  re 
spectful  consideration  than  in  the  wild  West.  She  is 
invariably  treated  with  a  chivalrous  gallantry  that  is 
really  magnificent ;  men  hasten  to  do  her  homage  and 
are  proud  to  be  commanded  by  her.  Still  the  pres 
ence  of  Mrs.  Smith  in  the  coach  acted  on  the  party 
as  a  little  restraint,  which  the  Judge  and  the  Colonel 
vainly  endeavored  to  dispel. 


33 

"  Fond  of  traveling  ma'am  ?  "  said  the  latter,  in  his 
best  off-hand  style,  as  he  leaned  towards  her  and  smiled 
handsomely.  The  lady  made  no  reply  and  the  Judge 
knocked  the  Colonel's  elbow. 

"  Sh  !  Cornel !  "  he  said  ;  "  you  don't  s'pose  she  un 
derstands  you,  when  it's  as  much  as  /can  do  to  untan 
gle  your  ideas  from  your  words.  She  speaks  French  !  " 

The  Colonel  accepted  the  rebuke  meekly  and  made 
no  further  conversational  effort.  The  road  became 
more  and  more  difficult  as  we  advanced,  and  the  fresh 
mules  were  unruly  and  drove  very  hard.  Several 
times,  in  bad  places,  they  had  balked,  and  the  coach 
had  swung  around  in  a  way  that  would  have  upset  a 
lighter  vehicle,  yet  no  exclamation  of  alarm  escaped 
from  the  lady,  who  sat  motionless  in  her  corner. 

"  Tumble  bad  place  to  be  held  up  'long  here,"  said 
the  Major,  after  an  unusually  long  silence,  during 
which  the  coach  had  slowly  pounded  over  a  huge  rock 
and  then  slid  off  with  an  unpleasant  scrunch.  UI 
should  hate  to  be  stopped  here,  for  I  have  a  little  mat 
ter  of  twelve  hundred  dollars  about  me,  which  I  don't 
care  to  lose.  Of  course  we're  all  friends  here  ? "  he 
hastily  asked. 

We  were,  and  it  then  came  out  that  each  man  was 
carrying  various  sums  of  money,  ranging  from  five 
hundred  to  four  thousand  dollars,  the  last  amount  be 
ing  the  property  of  the  Colonel,  who  described  accu 
rately  how  he  had  concealed  it  in  a  package  sewed  in 
his  clothing  next  to  his  body,  where  it  was  quite  in 
accessible  to  dishonest  persons. 

"  I  reckon  it'll  take  a  pretty  smart  chap  to  find  that," 
he  remarked  complacently,  as  he  slapped  his  hand  on 


34-         THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

the  spot  where  the  treasure  was  concealed.  We  could 
not  deny  this,  and  murmurs  of  admiration  were  heard 
at  his  shrewdness.  All  this  time — in  fact  since  we  left 
Sampson's — the  mysterious  Mrs.  Smith  had  not  moved 
or  changed  her  position.  She  still  kept  her  veil  down, 
and  in  the  slowly  waning  light  her  black  dress  seemed 
to  emphasize  the  shadows  in  the  coach. 

"Judge,"  said  the  Major,  at  length,  " It  must  be 
lonesome  for  her.  You're  consid'able  of  a  lingo-ist, 
couldn't  you  give  her  a  little  touch  in  the  native,  just 
to  be  perlite  ?  " 

The  Judge  looked  embarrassed  and  scratched  his- 
head  confusedly. 

"Why,  mebbe  I  might  rack  out  some  French,"  he 
said,  "it  aint  much  to  do,  but  er — what' 11  I  say?  You 
got  to  be  mighty  circumspec'  in  talkin'  French  to  a 
lady — it's  a  terrible^  free  langwidge." 

Both  the  military  men  were  impressed  by  this,  the 
Colonel  particularly  so,  and  fora  moment  his  face  was 
expressive  of  painful  perplexity. 

"  Well,  just  say  somethin'  civil,"  he  said  at  length  ; 
"  ask  her  if  she  wants  the  winder  up.  'Taint  likely 
she  does,  but  you  might  ask  her." 

"Oh  no!  Cornel,"  said  the  Judge,  "not  that. 
That  partickler  word  winder — in  French" — here  the 
Judge  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  is  cussin'  an? 
you'll  hev  to  excuse  me.  That's  where  /draw  the  line." 

"  Well,  chin  your  own  way  then,"  said  the  Colonel 
testily,  "  though  I  reckon  I  can  open  a  winder  fur  a 
lady — in  French — without  breakin'  any  of  the  Com 
mandments.  Only  say  somethin'  or  we'll  think  you 
don't  know  how." 


A    LITTLE    PASEAR.  35- 

This  was  touching  the  Judge  on  a  tender  spot,  and 
looking  at  the  Colonel  with  an  air  of  haughty  dignity, 
he  said  slowly : 

"  If  it'll  amuse  the  boys,  I  reckon  I'll  take  a  little 
pasear,  though  I'm  a  trifle  rusty  in  my  langwidges 
just  now.  Had  consid'able  practice  too,  down  in  San 
Migell  county." 

Then  with  a  soft  ahem  !  and  a  flourish  of  his  hand 
kerchief  he  leaned  forward,  and  casting  a  bewitching 
smile  at  the  lady,  murmured : 

"  Buenos  dias,  senora.  Habeis  vosotros — er — that 
is — como  esta  vey  ? " 

The  lady  made  no  answer ;  in  fact  seemed  not  to 
hear,  but  the  Judge  was  in  nowise  disconcerted. 

"  Reckon  she  was  thinkin'  of  the  late  lamented,  and 
didn't  wholly  catch  on  to  my  idee,"  he  remarked 
pleasantly.  "  I'll  open  another  lead,"  and  again  he 
smiled  as  he  murmured  : 

"  These  gen'lemen — "  indicating  us  with  a  graceful 
and  comprehensive  sweep,  ".fotft'  gen'lemen,  and  well 
acquainted  with  good  sassiety,  hev  asked  me  to  pass 
their  compliments  to  you  ina'am,  which  I  now  do. 
Er — el  tiempo  es  bien  inconstanty  senora,  and  esta — 
er — ; "  the  Judge  concluded  the  sentence  with  a 
gesture.  "  It's  a  little  remark  in  the  vernacular  of  the 
French,"  he  explained,  "an'  I  reckon  it'll  fetch  her." 

It  certainly  did  seern  to  have  some  effect,  for  the 
lady  uttered  a  sound  strangely  like  a  chuckle,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  Judge,"  said  the  Colonel,  after  waiting  a  reason 
able  time  for  an  answer,  "  I'm  afraid  your  langwidges 
have  been — so  to  speak — tampered  with.  I've  always 


36         THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

allowed  there  was  some  difference  between  French 
and  Spanish,  myself" 

The  Judge  waxed  indignant.  "  A  joke's  a  joke  an' 
all  right,"  he  said,  "  but  I  didn't  s'pose  there  was  a  man 
here  but  knowed  the  roots  of  the  two  langwidges  was 
the  same,  an'  if  you  can  only  confine  your  talkin'  to 
roots — an'  you  gen'rally  can  in  genteel  sassiety — it 
makes  no  odds  whether  it  is  French  or  Spanish." 

"All  right  Judge,  all  right,"  said  the  Colonel, 
soothingly  ;  "  of  course  we  know'd  that  well  an'  good, 
but  a  man  must  have  his  little  joke  now  an'  then. 
But  ask  her — in  your  roots — if  she's  any  objection  to 
smoke." 

The  Judge — partly  mollified — did  not  essay  this  in 
speech,  but  beginning  even  farther  back  than  "roots," 
managed  to  ask  the  questions  by  signs.  The  lady 
nodded  her  assent  with  vivacity,  and  drawing  a  silver 
case  from  her  pocket,  took  therefrom  a  cigarette,  which 
after  raising  her  veil  a  little  she  placed  between  her 
lips.  At  first  we  were  amazed,  but  the  Colonel,  with 
that  savoir  vivre  which  had  always  distinguished  him 
and  made  him  so  popular  with  the  sex,  quickly  recov 
ered  himself,  and  gallantly  offered  the  lady  a  light, 
which  she  graciously  accepted.  Then  murmurs  of  admi 
ration  were  heard.  The  Major  audibly  compared  her 
"  a  butterfly  and  a  whip-poor-will,  by  Gad !  "  the  Col 
onel  swore  the  "  she  took  him,  blamed  if  she  didn't," 
while  the  Judge  repeated  his  former  opinion  and  de 
clared  that  "she  was  a  reg'lar  Cle-op-etry  from  the 
word  go."  The  Professor  was  silent  but  I  have  rea 
son  for  believing  that  he  endorsed  all  the  others. 


EVENING    ON    THE    ROAD.  37 

"  What  I  admire  in  lovely  wimmiri,"  said  the 
Colonel,  as  we  sat  there  quietly  smoking,  "  is  the  er — 
the  ability  she  possesses  to  adapt  herself  to  circum 
stances,  as  illustrated  in  the  above.  We  are  all  friends 
here — in  course — so  we  can  be  comfortable,  but  I'm 
safe  in  sayin'  I  shall  be  glad  to  git  to  Leadville.  That 
little  matter  of  four  thousand  dollars  I  got  sewed  into 
mv — Judge,  sure  the  lady  can't  understand  Eng 
lish — my — in  fact,  gen'lemen,  my  shirt,"  said  the 
Colonel  frankly,  again  indicating  the  exact  location 
of  the  treasure,  "  is  a  tax  on  my  mind,  an'  I  want  to 
git  it  off." 

Outside  the  snow  had  ceased  falling  and  the 
dusk  of  a  winter's  evening  was  slowly  deepening  into 
darkness.  High  up  on  the  slope  that  rose  on  our 
right  stood  a  solitary  pine  tree,  that  had  pushed  its 
way  through  the  rocks,  and  now  stood,  lonesome  and 
sad,  by  night  and  day,  keeping  a  melancholy  watch  on 
the  valley.  The  sun,  long  since  hidden  to  us  below, 
shot  a  ray  as  a  good-night  message,  and  for  an  instant 
the  tree  was  ablaze ;  then  the  light  died  quickly  out  and 
we  were  in  semi-darkness  again.  The  road  wound  its 
way  around  the  face  of  a  high  cliff ;  on  one  side  tow 
ered  a  wall  of  rock  sheer  three  hundred  feet ;  on  the 
other  sunk  an  unsoundable  chasm.  Tommy  sat  on  the 
box,  his  two  lamps  lit,  and  his  tongue  playing  a  rapid 
accompaniment  to  his  whip.  Inside,  the  small 
reflector  at  the  end  of  the  coach  only  served  to  make 
the  night  without  seem  darker  than  it  was.  Silently 
we  sat  there  smoking,  the  ends  of  our  cigars  alter 
nately  glowing  and  dimming  in  the  dingy  air.  An 
unusual  volley  of  oaths  from  the  box,  a  cracking  of 


38         THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

whips,  a  shouting,  and  then  the  stopping  of  the  coach 
with  a  lurch  startled  us  out  of  our  quiet.  Then  a 
shout  from  Tom  as  he  spoke  to  his  cattle,  and  a  voice, 
ringing  like  a  bugle,  was  heard  from  the  rocks  above. 

"  Come  !  none  o5  that !  Make  a  straight  haul  for  it, 
d — n  you  !  Throw  off  that  box  !  Lively  now  !  Put 
up  your  hands  an'  git  down  !  Everyone  of  you,  git 
down!" 

Sorrowfully  we  obeyed.  The  description  the  Pro 
fessor  had  given  a  few  hours  before  of  our  probable 
sensations  was  exactly  true.  A  pair  of  six-shooters, 
held  in  the  hands  of  a  stalwart  man,  whose  face  was 
partly  concealed  by  a  black  mask,  hastened  our 
descent,  and  in  a  moment  we  found  ourselves  ranged 
in  line,  with  our  hands  above  our  heads,  a  meek,  un 
happy,  cowed  group.  At  one  end  of  the  line  stood 
Tommy,  swearing  savagely  at  his  luck ;  at  the  other 
stood  the  Colonel,  cool,  impassive,  dignified,  confi 
dent  in  the  security  of  his  treasure.  The  last  to 
descend  was  the  widow,  but  a  widow  no  longer,  for 
out  of  the  coach  there  sprang  an  active  young  fellow, 
of  slender  but  sinewy  build,  smooth  shaven,  dressed  in 
the  conventional  garb  of  the  western  rider,  and  carry 
ing  in  his  hand  a  nickle  plated  six  shooter.  And  this 
was  Mrs.  Smith — who  did  not  speak  English.  Any 
one  standing  near  the  Judge  at  that  time,  might  have 
heard  an  exclamation,  both  forcible  and  profane.  The 
"widow"  heard  it,  for  with  a  little  laugh  he  (or  she) 
touched  his  finger  to  his  lips  and  said  : 

"  Hush,  Judge  !  that's  cussin',  an'  you  draw  the  line 
there,  you  know." 


NO    HURRY    TO    MOVE.  39 

And  then  he  proceeded  to  search  the  pockets  of  his 
fellow  travelers,  as  if  it  were  a  very  common-place 
affair,  which  it  certainly  was  not,  and  relieve  them  of 
their  valuables,  his  associate  keeping  guard  meantime. 
Down  the  line  he  went,  doing  his  work  quickly  but 
carefully,  but  before  he  was  done  the  other  began 
to  grow  impatient. 

"  Hurry  up,  Jim ! "  he  said.  "  Ain't  you  most 
through  ?  We're  late." 

"  All  done  but  this  one,"  said  Jim,  the  quondam 
widow,  as  he  halted  before  the  Colonel.  "  He's  got 
four  thousand  dollars  sewed  plum  to  his  shirt.  I 
reckon  I'll  hev  to  rip  the  old  coon  open  to  git  it." 
Saying  which  he  drew  his  knife  and  with  a  quick 
movement,  as  if  to  disembowel  the  Colonel,  slipped 
the  point  through  his  clothing,  and  with  a  wrench 
pulled  out  the  package. 

"  Sorry  to  trouble  you,  gents,"  said  the  larger  man, 
bowing  politely,  "but  I  won't  detain  you  much  longer, 
fur  I  know  you  want  to  git  to  Leadville.  I  hope  this 
old  gen'leman,"  pointing  to  the  rent  in  the  Colonel's 
dress,  "  won't  take  cold.  He  must  be  careful — good 
men  are  scarce."  The  Colonel  snorted.  "  You  will 
kindly  stand  just  where  you  are  till  I  give  the  word. 
There  is  a  few  friends  of  mine  a  lookin'  at  us  from 
them  rocks,  and  I  really  wouldn't  move  very  much  if  I 
was  you — I  really  wouldn't,  fur  their  guns  is  all  hair 
triggers  an'  dreadful  liable  to  go  off.  You  won't 
move  now,  will  you  ? 

We  would  not!  Wild  horses  could  not  have 
dragged  us  from  that  spot,  for  up  in  the  rocks  we  fan 
cied  we  could  see  two  shining  barrels,  aimed  truly  at 


40         THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  LATE  SMITH. 

us,  and  we  were  really  anxious  to  remain  quiet.  Be 
fore  we  knew  it  we  were  alone  ;  our  new  acquaintances 
had  vanished  in  the  dusk,  and  an  instant  later  we  heard 
the  same  voice,  ringing  out  above  us: 

u  Git  into  the  coach  now  and  git !  " 

And  we  got. 

But  we  were  no  longer  the  cheerful  party  we  had 
been.  Outside  we  could  hear  Tommy  swearing  all 
sorts  of  new  and  exuberant  oaths,  at  himself,  the  com 
pany,  the  mules,  the  coach,  and  the  road-agents.  Inside, 
not  a*  word  was  spoken  until  the  Judge,  stooping 
down,  lifted  into  view  the  black  skirt  that  the  former 
widow  had  worn.  A  sad  smile  stole  over  his  face  and 
he  whispered,  mournfully  : 

«  Boys,  I'm  reg'larly  d— d  !  " 

To  which  the  Colonel  added  a  short  postscript: 

"  It's  just  h— 1 !  " 


III.    ALA  NASCAR  AND  HIS  UNCLE. 

It  was  a  bright  clear  morning  in  early  October,  in 
the  year  eighteen  hundred  and-I've-forgotten-exactly, 
that  I  mounted  my  horse  and  started  on  a  solitary 
ride  from  Monmouth,  Fremont  County,  Colorado, 
to  the  new  mining  camp  of  Kirby,  which  lay  in  the 
shadow  of  Mount  Uncompahgre.  The  day  before  I 
had  purchased  my  mount,  and  by  a  dispensation  of  a 
kindly  Providence  had  secured  an  A  1  animal.  So 
at  least  the  man  I  bought  him  of  earnestly  assured 
me. 

Said  he  :  "  Young  feller,  it's  easy  seen  you  aint  no 
tenderfoot,  an'  you  know  ezactly  what  you  require  in 
the  hoss  line.  Now,  if  you  want  a  hoss  that'll  buck 
an'  tear  'round,  this  hoss  won't  suit  you.  Or  if  you're 
lookin'  for  somethin'  that'll  jest  take  the  bit  in  his 
teeth  an'  scoot  till  you  can't  see,  an'  pitch  an'  kick 
till  everything  blue,  why  we  can't  trade — that's  all. 
This  hoss  aint  that  kind.  If  he's  well  took  care  of 
though,  you  can  ride  him  to  Jerus'lem  and  back — 
easy.  He  ain't  wild ;  he's  jest  strong." 

Although  I  had  no  intention  of  going  to  Jerusalem  at 

that  time,  I  purchased  the  horse.     If  he  were  capable 

of  making  such  a  pilgrimage  as   that,  I  reasoned,  he 

must  be   a   good   animal,  for  are  we  not  told   that 

c  (41) 


42  ALANASCAE    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

"  Jordan  is  a  hard  road  to  travel "  ?  After  the  sale  was 
completed  the  dealer  congratulated  me  on  my  choice. 

"  The  moment  I  seen  ye,  I  knowed  what  you 
wanted,"  he  said.  "  A  reg'lar,  sure  'nuff  hoss,  that's  got 
plenty  of  sand  an'  nothin'  mean  about  him.  An'  there 
he  is  !.  Aint  he  a  blamed  little  rustler !  I  dunno  what 
my  wife'll  say  to  me  lettin'  him  go.  He's  a  genoine 
pet ;  reg'larly  sets  down  to  dinner  with  us  sometimes." 

The  horse  was  fairly  speedy,  but  neither  handsome 
nor  intelligent,  Still  he  was  not  particularly  vicious, 
and  as  long  as  we  remained  in  sight  of  the  town, 
showed  no  signs  of  eccentricity,  other  than  an  un 
quenchable  inclination  to  roll,  without  waiting  for  me 
to  dismount,  and  an  embarrassing  desire  to  taste  my 
legs.  But  so  long  as  he  didn't  buck  I  overlooked 
these  faults.  It  was  not  until  we  had  advanced  several 
miles  on  our  journey  that  'Rastus  (I  called  him  'Rastus 
because  of  his  gentle  disposition)  first  discovered  to 
me  a  gay  little  habit  of  shying,  a  most  absurd  trick 
considering  his  age. 

My  saddle  was  of  the  Mexican  pattern,  with  a  high 
cantle  behind  and  a  higher  pommel  in  front.  This 
pommel  was  a  sure  safeguard  for  the  integrity  of  my 
neck  in  case  of  a  stumble,  but  opened  a  long  vista  of 
deadly  perils  to  my  viscera.  Yet  in  spite  of  my  fears, 
or  possibly  because  of  them,  'Kastus  neither  stumbled 
nor  bucked,  and  although  he  several  times  shied  half 
across  the  State,  I  managed  to  keep  him  company.  As 
we  advanced — generally  sideways — 'Rastus  developed 
new  peculiarities,  before  unsuspected.  He  had  three 
steps,  which  in  a  little  while  I  was  able  to  classify  into 


'EASTUS.  43 

the  waltz,  polka  and  all  promenade.  He  would  start 
with  the  waltz,  glide  gracefully  into  the  polka,  and 
then  evolve  himself  into  the  all  promenade  before  I 
realized  he  had  started.  He  was  infinite  in  his  variety; 
he  seemed  like  an  unfinished  part  of  the  Universe — 
always  in  a  period  of  transition.  I  have  never  yet 
seen  a  fellow  creature  riding  on  a  rail,  but  when  I  do 
I  shall  know  how  to  sympathize  with  him. 

Thus  I  jogged — bumped  is  perhaps  a  better  word — 
along  on  my  weary  way.  I  was  in  light  rig,  carrying 
no  baggage  besides  a  blanket,  a  Winchester  carbine, 
and  a  revolver,  the  weapons  being  more  for  effect  than 
use,  as  I  had  long  before  learned  that  a  man  is  quite 
as  safe  if  he  is  unarmed  as  when  he  bristles  with 
breech-loaders. 

Away  we  went,  'Rastus  and  I ;  now  we  sidled,  now 
we  backed ;  one  moment  we  waltzed  and  the  next  it 
was  all  hands  round  in  the  grand  chain.  The  ground 
was  still  bare  of  snow,  even  at  that  altitude,  and  only 
the  summits  of  the  mountain  peaks  were  white ;  the 
rest  of  the  land  was  brown  and  dry.  The  road  was 
plain  and  unmistakable,  running  south  through  the 
mountains ;  and  now  and  then  an  opening  in  the  wall 
in  front  of  me  disclosed  the  snowy  peak  of  Mt.  Un- 
•compahgre,  that  rose  14,235  feet  in  air.  The  ride  to 
Kirby  was  a  rough  one  of  sixty  miles,  through  a  coun 
try  of  wild  beauty.  On  all  sides  were  mountains, 
some  snow-covered,  some  plainly  capped  in  decorous 
brown.  During  the  first  hour  I  was  fully  occupied 
in  learning  the  '  individualities '  of  'Rastus,  for  his 
versatility  in  steps  momentarily  threatened  to  cripple 
me  for  life ;  but  in  time  we  arrived  at  an  understand" 


44  ALANASCAR    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

ing — either  I  became  used  to  him  or  he  began  to  tirey 
and  then  we  proceeded  slowly  and  sedately. 

It  was  about  four  in  the  afternoon  that  I  reached 
the  top  of  a  long  ascent,  steep,  rocky  and  difficult,  and 
paused  a  moment  to  rest  and  look  about.  Before  me 
lay  the  narrow  roadway,  winding  around  the  precip 
itous  incline  like  a  thread  wound  about  an  orange. 
Down  the  slope  of  the  hill,  grew  a  few  pines,  scrub 
and  scanty.  The  sun  was  just  resting  on  the  spire  of 
some  unnamed  peak  at  my  right,  and  it  lit  up  with 
sparkling  brilliancy  the  snowy  top  of  Uncompahgre, 
visible  between  the  intervening  crests.  In  the  east 
a  blue  haze  wavered  and  trembled  like  the  hot  smoke 
from  some  huge  fire. 

'Rastus  had  no  dancing  steps  then  ;  no  rhythmical 
measures  trod  he,  as  he  stood  there  on  the  summit, 
tired  out,  legs  wide  apart,  tail  drooping,  and  flanks  heav 
ing  as  he  sucked  in  the  thin  air.  Seeing  that  my  way 
now  led  down  hill  and  with  a  footing  insecure  for  a 
horse,  I  dismounted  and  proceeded  on  foot.  We  had 
advanced  in  this  way  perhaps  a  mile,  when  turning  a 
corner  around  a  huge  rock  'Rastus  gave  a  snort,  in 
dicative  of  surprise,  and  looking  up  I  beheld  a  stranger. 
He  was  extremely  meagre,  lanterned-jawed  and  tall,, 
with  a  very  long  and  narrow  face,  and  this  appear 
ance  was  exaggerated  by  the  tuft  of  dusty  brown 
whisker  that  hung  from  his  chin.  His  dress  was  odd, 
for  he  wore  upon  his  head  a  torn  and  much  battered 
army-cap,  that  had  once  been  blue,  but  was  then  of  an 
uncertain  brown.  He  was  clothed  in  a  buckskin  shirt,, 
its  fringes  tattered  and  ragged,  breeches  of  the  same,, 
worn  inside  enormous  boots,  red  with  the  accumulated 


THE    UNCLE.  45 

mud  of  years,  and  on  the  right  foot  was  strapped  a 
gigantic  spur,  silver-plated  where  the  plating  had  not 
worn  off.  His  arms  consisted  of  a  battered  cavalry 
sabre,  the  scabbard  indented  and  scratched,  and  a  six- 
shooter  and  cartridge  belt,  buckled  loosely  about  his 
waist.  And  then  the  horse  !  Like  his  master,  tall, 
thin,  sorrowful  of  visage,  and  tired.  His  front  legs 
were  bent  at  the  knees,  as  if  his  strength  was  hardly 
capable  of  sustaining  his  wreight ;  and  a  melancholy 
drooping  of  his  lower  jaw  was  offset  by  a  comical  and 
involuntary  movement  of  his  ears.  Suspended  from 
the  saddle-horn  was  a  scabbard  of  ragged  leather,  from 
which  stuck  out  the  butt  of  a  carbine,  while  a  pair  of 
well-filled  saddle-bags  were  fastenedtothecantle.be- 
hind.  As  I  rounded  the  turn  of  the  road,  which  was 
there  heavily  shaded  by  pines,  I  came  suddenly  upon 
these  strange  figures.  The  man  stood  by  the  horse's 
side,  resting  his  hand  on  the  saddle  and  gazing  into 
the  distance  in  silent  contemplation.  The  instant  he 
perceived  me,  he  made  a  lightning  movement  of  his 
right  hand,  and  levelling  a  six-shooter  cried : 
"  Halt !  Advance  and  give  the  countersign  !  " 
I  was  in  a  dilemma ;  how  could  I  halt  and  advance 
too?  Besides,  I  knew  no  countersign,  and  if  I  were 
to  guess  and  make  a  mistake  I  ran  a  risk.  As  I  stood 
there  in  chilly  doubt,  another  person  came  forth  out 
of  the  woods,  leading  a  mule  which  he  had  evidently 
been  feeding,  and  laying  his  hand  on  the  other's  arm, 
checked  him  with  a  gesture. 

The  second  man  was  in  strange  contrast  to  the  first, 
with  his  round,  bullet  head  and  broad,  flat  face,  yet 
wearing  withal  a  look  of  good-natured  shrewdness, 


46  ALANASCAK    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

considerably  heightened  by  the  merry  light  in  his  eyes 
and  by  a  habit  he  had  of,  at  times,  slowly  dropping 
his  left  eye-lid  in  an  irresistibly  comical  manner.  This 
wink  was  very  expressive;  he  could  graduate  it.  to 
anything.  Sometimes  he  would  close  his  eye  entirely; 
sometimes  there  would  be  just  the  faintest  tremor  of 
the  lid  ;  but  each  had  its  own  significance.  His  mule 
was  a  tall,  lank  animal,  carrying  a  huge  Mexican  sad 
dle,  much  the  worse  for  wear,  to  which,  as  in  the  other 
case,  there  were  tied  a  pair  of  well-filled  saddle-bags. 

Not  without  some  doubts  of  my  new  companions 
did  I  accept  the  invitation  of  the  younger  to,  "  light 
an'  set  awhile."  I  much  preferred  to  ride  on,  but  one 
can  safely  do  things  in  the  East  he  dare  not  try  in 
Colorado,  and  I  reluctantly  joined  them.  The  tall 
man  paid  no  further  attention  to  me,  but  stood  rigid 
and  upright  by  his  horse's  head,  and  either  would  not 
or  could  not  hear  me  ;  the  younger  was  much  interest 
ed  in  my  past,  present  and  future,  and  overwhelmed 
me  with  questions.  After  a  five-minutes  stop  I  start' 
ed  on,  for  I  had  a  long  distance  to  go  before  dark  and 
a  growing  doubt  of  'Rastus  troubled  me.  As  I  made 
ready,  I  saw  the  young  man  advance  toward  the  tall 
stranger  and  respectfully  hold  his  stirrup  for  him  to 
mount ;  and  then  he  himself,  with  many  groans  and 
infinite  labor,  climbed  into  his  place  on  the  mule  and 
followed  after  us.  I  was  not  altogether  pleased  with 
my  fellow  travelers,  but  I  could  not  u  shake  them." 

We  rode  along  the  narrow  path  in  single  file,  the 
old  man  several  hundred  feet  in  advance;  behind  him 
I  came,  with  the  fat  squire  in  the  rear,  groaning  and 
puffing,  and  pounding  his  unshod  heels  into  the  flanks- 


ALANASCAE.  47 

of  the  mule  in  desperate  efforts  to  keep  up  with  the 
cavalcade.  Upon  reaching  the  valley  where  the  road 
widened  out,  the  squire,  with  some  difficulty,  urged 
his  mule  into  a  trot,  and  rode  to  my  side.  He  pulled 
up  abreast  of  me  and  with  the  comical  droop  of  his  left 
eyelid,  said  abrabtly  : 

"  TV  old  man's  a  rum  snoozer,  ain't  he  ? 

I  nodded. 

"  Queer'n  a  unicorn  ;  leetle  mite  touched  here,  ye 
know,"  he  added,  placing  his  finger  just  over  his  half 
closed  eye,  "  but  square  from  the  ground  up.  Oh ! 
cert'nly." 

Then  with  his  hand  he  described  a  circle  in  the  air 
just  above  the  crown  of  his  head,  and  leaning  half 
out  of  his  saddle,  whispered  confidentially,  nodding 
toward  the  other :  "  Scalped  !  He  was  !  Yes  sir ! 
An'  it's  e-fected  his  hull  nervous  systum." 

It  was  plainly  true ;  he  looked  like  a  seedy  member 
of  that  misguided  and  not  too  clean  band,  the  Salva 
tion  Army. 

"Is  your  friend  a  religious  enthusiast  ?  "     I  asked. 

"  Him  !  the  Guv'nor  !  Well,  I  guess  you  aint  never 
heard  him  swear,"  he  chuckled.  "  Oh  !  yes !  he's  a 
religious  enthoosiast  with  the  bark  on,  he  is  !  No  sir ! 
we're  travelin'  to  do  good"  Then  riding  close  to  me, 
he  whispered,  with  the  slightest  possible  wink:  "'Lixir 
of  Life,  ye  know !  two  dollars  a  bottle  or  three  for 
five ;  that's  us  !  See  ? " 

I  endeavored  to  assume  a  look  of  intelligent  ap 
preciation,  but  I  must  have  failed,  for  my  companion 
went  on : 


48  ALANASCAR    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

"  Cures  anythin'  ye  know,  from  biles  to  brain 
fever,  but  is  'specially  valooble  in  strengthnin'  the 
nerve  functions  of  the  systum.  Behold  !  The  Guv'nor 
is  a  living  example  of  before  usin';  me — after  usin'. 
If  one  bottle  don't  cure  ye  buy  another  an'  so  on,"  and 
my  new  friend  again  winked  spasmodically,  and  slip 
ping  his  hands  over  his  figure  to  call  attention  to  its 
rotundity,  allowed  an  infectious  smile  to  play  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth.  It  was  too  much  for  me, 
and  I  laughed  outright. 

"  Was  you  ever  up  to  Clay's  Gulch  ?  "  he  asked, 
after  a  short  pause. 

I  admitted  that  I  had  been  there — more  or  less. 

"  That's  where  I  come  from — Clay's  Gulch,"  he  said 
cheerfully,  as  if  delighted  to  find  we  had  something  in 
common  ;  "  though  I  was  formally  from  Illinoy.  Got 
a  second-cousin  livin'  in  Chicago  this  minute ;  name 
of  Reuben  Stone — same  name  as  me." 

He  bowed  in  that  graceful  manner  that  always 
marks  the  accomplished  man  of  the  world,  and  I  ac 
knowledged  the  introduction  by  feebly  imitating  him. 

"  I  aint  allus  been  thus,"  he  continued,  evidently 
referring  to  his  pecuniary  condition.  u  I  used  to  live 
up  to  Denver — th'  metropulus  of  the  Rockies  an'  so 
forth — before  I  got  unfortunate  in  bizness.  That  was 
five  year  ago  in  June.  I  used  to  act  there  in  the 
slickest  dime  museum  ever  you  did  see — Mondays, 
Wednesdays  and  Fridays  as  the  Medicine  Chief  of  the 
Sioux  Nation,  and  Tuesdays,  Thursdays  and  Satur 
days  as  the  Wild  Man  of  Borneo,  which  was  my 
fav'rfte  character  an'  much  cooler'n  the  Medicine 
Chief,  fur  they  kept  the  room  warm  'count  of  the 


OUK    ENCAMPMENT.  49 

Tatooed  Man  from  Polynesy,  an'  the  Medicine  Chief 
had  to  wear  a  buffalo  skin,  which  made  the  pores 
dreadful  open  an'  liable  to  catch  cold,  interf  erin'  some 
with  the  war  whoop,  though  addin'  to  its  gashlyness. 
Oh  !  I've  seen  life,  I  can  tell  you.  Two  dollars  a  day 
/  used  to  get." 

We  slowly  advanced  across  the  valley  into  which 
the  sun's  rays  had  long  ceased  to  penetrate,  and  the  dull 
gray  light  of  evening  enveloped  us.  We  were  still 
many  miles  from  the  ranch  where  I  had  expected  to 
pass  the  night,  and  a  glance  at  'Rastus  convinced  me 
that  he  was  quite  incapable  of  reaching  there.  I 
did  not  relish  the  prospect  of  spending  the  night  out 
of  doors,  nor  did  I  much  care  for  the  society  of  the 
Medicine  Chief  of  the  Sioux  Nation,  but  there  was  no 
help  for  it,  and  so  I  suggested  to  him  that  we  had  better 
stop  at  the  first  suitable  place  and  camp  for  the  night. 
He  agreed,  and  we  rode  on  in  the  increasing  darkness, 
until  we  came  to  a  small  pine  grove,  at  the  edge  of 
which  flowed  a  slender  stream.  Here  we  halted,  but 
the  old  man,  who  all  this  time  had  ridden  in  advance 
of  us,  kept  on.  I  pointed  out  this  fact  to  the  Medicine 
Chief. 

"  Oh  durn  it,  yes  ! "  he  cried  disgustedly  ;  "fire  yer 
gun  at  him  ;  he's  deefer'n  the  deadly  upas  tree." 

I  accepted  the  comparison,  although  I  was  not  then 
aware  that  the  upas  was  any  harder  of  hearing  than 
many  other  varieties  of  trees  ;  but  I  declined  to  shoot 
the  old  gentleman  in  order  to  attract  his  attention, 
and  the  Wild  Man  was  compelled  to  ride  after  him 
and  bring  him  back — a  task  not  performed  without 
some  difficulty. 


50  AL  ANA  SOAK    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

A  fire  was  soon  made,  and  after  eating  what  was 
left  in  our  pouches — and  it  was  very  little — we  pre 
pared  for  the  night.  I  had  previously  unsaddled 
'Rastus,  watered  him  and  picketed  him  where  he  could 
feed  on  such  grass  as  there  was.  I  carried  my  saddle, 
blanket  and  rifle  down  by  the  fire,  and,  building  up  a 
huge  blaze,  wrapped  myself  up  and  waited  for  what 
might  come.  My  companions  made  a  pile  of  their 
accoutrements,  carefully  stowing  the  saddle-bags  on 
top  of  the  heap,  handling  them  very  tenderly ;  for  they 
were  "  chuck  full  of  'Lixir,"  as  Reuben  assured  me. 
This  done  the  old  man  went  to  sleep  and  we  two  lay 
there  silently  smoking  our  pipes.  In  the  woods 
behind  us  we  could  hear  our  animals,  munching  the 
leaves  of  the  shrubs  and  occasionally  stepping  on  some 
dry  twig  that  broke  with  a  loud  snap.  The  fire  in 
front  glowed  warm  and  bright,  and  the  sap  in  the 
green  wood,  made  into  steam  by  the  heat,  now  and 
then  would  burst  with  a  loud  report,  and  send  the 
embers  flying,  meteor-like,  through  the  darkness.  The 
old  man,  completely  buried  in  his  blanket,  was  peace 
fully  snoring  at  my  right  hand,  while  at  my  left  lay 
the  Wild  Man,  flat  on  his  back,  a  stubby  pipe  in  his- 
mouth,  and  his  right  leg  waving  spasmodically  in  the 
air,  as  he  endeavored  to  interpose  his  foot  between  his 
eyes  and  some  of  the  darting  flames  that  sprang  up 
from  the  fire.  At  length,  for  the  sake  of  saying 
something,  I  remarked : 

"  Your  friend  seems  to  be  asleep  !  " 

"  Friend ! "  cried  the  Wild  Man  contemptuously,, 
rolling  over  on  his  right  side  so  as  to  face  me,  "  he 
aint  HQ friend!  he's  my  uncle!" 


OLD    JIM    BARKER.  51 

I  hastily  apologized  for  my  mistake,  and  a  short 
silence  ensued,  at  last  broken  by  my  companion. 

"  When  you  was  up  to  Clay's  Gulch  last  time,  did 
you  hear  anythin'  how  old  Jim  Barker  was  cominr 
on  ? "  he  asked  hesitatingly.  "  Him  that  owns  th' 
'Hard  Heart'  mine  and  th'  grocery  story,  I  mean. 
Does  th'  claim  seem  to  be  openin'  up  pretty  mid- 
dlin'  rich  ? " 

I  informed  him  that,  according  to  all  reports,  old 
Jim  Barker  was  in  a  very  prosperous  financial  condi 
tion.  Reuben  sighed  wearily ;  he  was  plainly  grow 
ing  nervous  as  we  talked,  for  he  puffed  with  increas 
ing  rapidity  on  his  pipe,  and  allowed  his  foot  to  wander 
along  paths  of  puzzling  eccentricity.  From  where  I 
lay,  his  boot  looked  like  a  tremendous  black  comet, 
wheeling  along  an  epicycloidal  orbit,  across  a  red  sky. 
His  attitude  at  this  moment,  indicated  deep  and 
troubled  thought,  from  which  he  at  length  roused 
himself  to  say  emphatically  : 

"  I  consider  that  old  Jim  Barker  is  a  dog-gone 
mean  rooster,  sir.  He  never  had  another  dollar  till  he 
struck  the  'Hard  Heart'  claim— grub-staked  a  man 
for  it,  ye  know — an'  now  he  swears  that  any  feller 
that  gits  Miss  Car'line  Barker — his  daughter,  ye  know 
— hez  got  to  size  his  pile.  It  aint  a  square  play,  but 
I  know  a  likely  young  feller  that  holds  the  joker  over 
him,  and  when  the  time  comes,  sir —  '  Here  he  stayed 
his  foot  suddenly  in  its  orbit,  and  winking  a  wink  of 
tremendous  meaning  whispered  : — "  We're  engaged  !  " 
and  instantly  relapsed  into  gloomy  silence,  leaving 
me  in  doubt,  at  first,  whether  he  referred  to  Jim  or 
to  Miss  Car'line. 


-52  ALANASCAR    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  pardner,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  I 
propose  to  e-quire  the  hand  of  Miss  Car'line,  in  spite 
of  unjust  conditions.  Me  an'  th'  Guv'nor  there, 
we've  got  th'  slickest  little  thing  in  them  saddle-bags 
-ever  you  did  see.  Beats  minin',  for  there  aint  no 
risks ;  it's  dead  sure  an'  all  profit." 

"What  is  it  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  that  'Lixir  I  was  mentionin'  to  you  just  now. 
It's  the  blamedest  thing  fur  a  weak  intelleckyou  ever 
did  see.  Try  it  and  see  for  yourself.  It's  simply 
rattlin'  brain  food,  blamed  if  'taint." 

"  What  is  it  made  of  ? "  I  innocently  asked. 

Reuben  slowly  closed  his  left  eye  quite  shut,  arid 
thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  as  if  to  intimate  that 
he  was  not  entirely  green,  not  at  that  moment  cer 
tainly. 

"  Well,  you  see  that's  a  secret,"  he  chuckled,  "  but 
I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  that  there's  f ossiforus,a  couple 
of  ingredients,  an'  consid'able  whiskey  in  it.  Them 
two  ingredients  gives  it  range ;  the  fossiforus  is  brain 
food  an'  the  whiskey  is  good  for  everythin'  else. 
Powerful  scope  it  has ;  old  man's  invention." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  it  is  so  good  for  the  brain  why 
doesn't  the  old  man  try  it  himself  ? " 

"  Hush  !  "  he  said.  "  I'm  tumble  afraid  he  will 
.some  day.  Wouldn't  do  though ;  he  aint  got  the  con 
stitution  to  stan'  it,  R"o  sir  !  We're  sellin'  this  'Lixir 
fur  two  dollars  a  bottle,  three  fur  five.  Them  saddle 
bags  contain  over  three  hunderd  bottles,  an'  I  cal'late 
-we  shall  hev  quite  a  bunch  of  money  when  they're  gone. 
Then  we'll  begin  again  an'  double  up  an'  so  on,  and 


BY   AND   BY.  53- 

blame  me  if  in  a  year  we  aint  rollin'  in  money.  Then 
look  out  for  Car'line.  Still  it's  a  tumble  feelin',  this- 
knowin'  you  can't  get  her  short  of  jest  so  many  dollars. 
It  ketches  me  at  times  right  plumb  here,"  and  he  laid 
his  hand  tenderly  on  that  part  of  his  chunky  frame 
known  in  popular  anatomy  as  the  bread-basket,  and 
sighed  wearily. 

"  But  Car'line  aint  a  bit  like  th'  old  man.  No  sir ! 
she  takes  after  her  ma.  Oh !  she's  all  right  an'  solid 
for  yours  truly,  you  can  just  bet,"  he  continued  hope 
fully.  '^Besides,  old  Barker  may  die  some  day ;  he's 
got  the  asthmy  bad.  An'  when  we're  spliced  we'll 
enjoy  life.  No  tendin'  fires  or  cookin'  or  washin'" 
dishes  then  ;  no  sir  !  Two  kinds  of  meat  fur  dinner — 
the  ushill  vegetables,  in  course— an'  pie  as  a  wind  up. 
Expensive,  I'll  allow,  but  what's  the  use  o'  scrimpin.' 
They'll  be  three  or  four  wimmen  to  look  after  the 
childern  with  hot  an'  cold  water  in  every  room,  an' 
every  p.  m.  I  an'  Car'line  we'll  take  our  little  pasear 
in  the  park  fur  our  healths  an'  go  to  the  opry  in  th?" 
evenin'." 

•"  But  suppose  old  Barker  objects  or  Car'line  changes 
her  mind,"  I  suggested  warningly. 

He  held  his  foot  quite  still  an  instant  and  looked  at 
me  in  surprise. 

"Object!  "  he  exclaimed,  "how  can  he  object  when 
he  sees  my  pile?  He'll  be  glad  enough,  an' as  fur 
Car'line  you  aint  never  seen  I  an'  her  together.  No- 
sir,  the  'tachment  is  mutual.  An'  besides,  a  couple  o' 
million  dollars  aint  to  be  sneezed  at,  off-hand,  I  kin- 
tell  you,  not  these  times. 

"  The  way  we  sells  it  is  this,"  he  said,  changing  the- 


54  ALANASCAR    AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

direction  of  his  talk.  "  You  see,  the  Guv'nor  there  is 
— so  to  speak — oddish,  and  of  a  figger  that  attracts  at 
tention.  "Well,  that's  the  dodge.  We  go  up  to  some 
minin'  camp  where  there's  lots  o'  money,  an'  we  ride 
up  and  down,  the  Guv'nor  on  his  hoss  and^his  sword 
drawd,  an'  me  on  my  mule,  carryin'  a  banner  sayin': 
*  Try  'Lixir  of  Life  fur  the  Nerves,'  an'  so  on,  an'  the 
thing  bein'  new  an'  catchy  we  sells  our  stock.  There's 
most  usually  a  lot  of  men  up  to  the  camps  what  drink 
mighty  free,  an'  bein'  badly  broke  up,  and  havin'  that 
tired  f eelin'  an'  sense  of  goneness  as  per  full  directions 
on  th'  label,  they'll  buy  a  bottle  to  try,  an'  it  tastin' 
like  whiskey  an'  bein'  medicine  besides,  they'll  usually 
buy  two.  Then  we  skip,  an'  when  we  get  back  there, 
six  months  after,  and  the  men  what  bought  th'  'Lixir 
first-time  being  all  of  'em  dead,  an'  th'  others  havin' 
forgot  about  it,  why  we  sells  some  more  an'  so  forth. 
That's  our  little  game,  an'  I  cal'late  after  this  trip  we'll 
start  an  outfit.  We've  got  our  hull  fortune  in  them 
saddle-bags,  but  we're  goin'  to  make  a  big  thing. 
Double  our  money  every  time." 

The  fire  by  this  time  had  burned  low,  and  my  com 
panion  got  up  to  replenish  it.  The  night  was  perfect 
for  that  time  of  year,  calm,  clear  and  cold.  So  bril 
liant  were  the  stars  that  they  seemed  almost  within 
reach,  and  the  Milky  Way  lay  like  a  broad  white  cestus 
on  the  dark  background  of  the  sky.  There  was  no 
moon,  and  save  where  the  fire  lit  up  the  scene,  every 
thing  was  in  absolute  darkness.  Reuben,  having  heaped 
up  a  huge  pile  of  green  fir  boughs  upon  the  fire, 
resumed  his  place  by  me  and  proceeded  with  his  story. 

"  I  aint  just  rightly  decided   yet   where  we'll  live 


ADVANTAGES    OF    NEW    YORK.  55 

when  we're  married,"  he  said.  u  I'm  thinkin'  some  of 
Denver,  but  they  is  objections  to  it,  an'  I  dnnno  's 
Car'line  would  be  best  suited  there  anyhow.  I  reckon 
New  York's  the  place  after  all.  I  aint  never  been 
there  myself,  but  I'm  pretty  sure  it's  tli'  place.  When 
a  man's  got  money  he  should  live  up  to  it — that's  my 
idee — an'  it  bein'  the  money  centre  they  is  nachally 
more  chances  for  investment  there.  A  man  don't 
want  his  hull  pile  in  one  thing,  you  know.  A  few  hun- 
derd  thousan'  in  stocks,  the  same  in  some  good  bonds — 
never  mind  the  intrust  so  long's  the  security  is  there — 
say  fifty  thousan'  in  the  bank  for  runnin'  expenses  an' 
a  'casional  fl}rer,  an'  then  let  whatever  you  please 
stay  right  here  in  this  'Lixir  bizness,  fur  it's  a  sure 
thing.  Aint  that  'bout  right  ? " 

It  seemed  to  me  it  was  just  right. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  N  Y  is  the  place.  Car'line  can  do 
her  shoppin'  an'  rustle  round  in  great  style.  One  of 
the  childern  '11  be  sickly  of  course,  an'  we  must  have 
the  best  doctors  in  the  country,  an'  the  others'll  need 
to  be  eddicated.  Of  course  we'll  have  a  country  house 
fur  summer  an'  when  the  childern  git  older  we'll  buy 
'em  a  yacht,  an'  go  mosey  in'  off,  say  'round  the 
world.  Aint  that  about  the  right  idee  ? " 

Again  I  had  to  admit  that  it  was. 

"  A  man  can  live  in  good  shape  in  IN"  Y  if  he 
knows  how.  I'll  sit  down  with  a  nigger  waiter  fur 
breakfast.  Then  I'll  mosey  off  in  my  private  coup  to 
the  bank,  an'  the  president  '11  say:  '  Good  mornin',  Mr. 
Stone  !  what  can  I  do  for  you'  an'  then  I'll  say  :  c  I 
want  maybe  fifty  thousan',  maybe  a  hunderd',  an' 
then  he'll  say  :  '  Oh  certainly  !  Cashier,  just  let  Mr. 


56  ALANASCAK   AND    HIS    UNCLE. 

Stone  hev  whatever  he  wants  an'  take  his  word  for 
it.'  Then  I'll  just  roll  it  up  an'  stick  it  in  my  pocket 
an'  off  again,  an'  double  my  money  before  dinner.  I 
tell  you  money  makes  money  every  time,  an'  it's  just 
as  easy.  An'  when  old  Jim  Barker  busts  up — an'  he 
will,  sure — I'll  just  put  him  on  an  allowance — an'  you 
bet  it'll  be  blamed  small,  an7  I'll  make  him  rustle  for 
it,  too." 

At  this  moment  Reuben  was  interrupted  by  a  noise 
in  the  woods  back  of  us  ;  the  horses  were  evidently 
badly  frightened — probably  by  a  black  bear  or  moun 
tain  lion — and  they  stampeded  wildly  towards  the  fire. 
Before  we  could  jump  to  our  feet  they  were  within 
the  circle  of  light,  trembling  and  snorting  violently. 
After  them  came  the  terrified  mule;  slower  and 
half  blind,  it  blundered  stupidly  into  the  pile  of  sad 
dles  and  fell  heavily  upon  them.  There  was  a  muf- 
fied  crash,  and  Reuben  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  of 
dismay,  while  the  mule,  frantic  with  fear,  entangled 
in  the  straps  and  unable  to  rise,  kicked  and  tore  the 
saddles  and  saddle-bags  to  pieces,  and  the  "  boss  brain 
food  "  poured  out  upon  the  dry  earth. 

Reuben  was  overwhelmed  at  first  with  the  extent 
of  his  misfortune.  "  Our  hull  stock  in  trade  is  ruin 
ed  ! ''  he  moaned.  "  Farewell  forever,  Car'line  !  fare 
thee  well !  "  But  in  a  few  moments  he  regained  his 
composure  and  began  to  look  at  the  situation  more 
philosophically. 

"  P'raps  we  can  fix  it  up  some  way,"  he  said  hope 
fully.  "  Maybe  Car'line  '11  hev  to  wait  a  spell  longer, 
but  Lord !  she  don't  mind ;  she's  just  that  kind. 
Never  say  die  !  Fossiforous  is  cheap  an'  this  kind  o' 


NEXT    MOKNING.  57 

whiskey  aint  so  very  high  neither,  an'  as  for  th'  in 
gredients  we  can  omit  them.  I  guess  it'll  come  out 
all  right." 

During  all  the  excitement  the  Guv'nor  slept,  never 
stirring,  and  tired  out  I  too  soon  dropped  off.  The  last 
thing  I  saw  was  Reuben,  seated  in  meditative  solitude 
before  the  fire,  into  which  he  was  absent-mindedly 
tossing  bits  of  bark,  and  repeating  to  himself  :  "  Yes 
sir,  that's  just  the  kind  Car'line  is  ;  fossif orous  is  cheap 
an'  we'll  omit  the  ingredients." 

When  I  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight ;  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly ;  the  air  was  cold,  and  the  ground 
covered  with  a  white  frost.  I  looked  about  me 
in  vain  for  my  companions.  Both  the  Guv'nor  and 
Reuben  had  stolen  away  like  the  Arabs,  and 
with  them  had  gone  'Rastus.  In  his  place  stood  the 
dissipated,  one-eyed  mule,  weary  and  desolate  of  ap 
pearance.  My  saddle,  which  I  had  used  as  a  pillow, 
together  with  my  arms  and  blanket  remained  un 
touched,  but  'Rastus,  light  of  my  life,  was  gone  forever. 

In  the  dead  gray  ashes  of  last  night's  fire  was  a 
small  bottle  wrapped  up  in  a  bit  of  brown  paper,  on 
which  was  written  these  words  : 

Deer  sir  mak  you  a  present  of  som  of  our  stok  in  trade  all  they 
is  lef  if  yure  nurv  aint  stiddy  in  morn  try  it  take  carr  of  the  muel 
hese  yurn  frely  we  got  to  rassel  for  mor  capitul  it  beets  hell  how 
hard  times  is  good  by  Ruben. 


i) 


IV.  THE  ASCENT  OF  UNCOMPAHGRE, 

Eight  thousand  feet  above  us  shone  the  glistening, 
snowy  summit  of  Uncompahgre,  a  giant  dome  of 
white,  that  here  and  there  the  refracted  light  of 
the  rising  sun,  just  sleepily  crawling  out  of  bed,  col 
ored  pale  red  or  yellow.  The  darknes*  of  the  night 
just  past  still  lingered  in  the  west,  while  in  the  east 
the  sky  was  blazing  with  the  morning.  High  above 
its  surroundings  towered  Uncompahgre,  with  never  a 
consort  in  sight,  though  round  about,  in  every  direc- 
iton,  were  the  lesser  peaks  that  made  up  a  part  of  the 
great  mountain  system. 

There  were  four  in  our  party,  and  we  were  about  to 
do  the  impossible ;  to  make  the  ascent  of  the  moun 
tain  in  January — a  feat  no  one  had  ever  accomplished. 
Or  to  be  quite  accurate — no  one  had  ever  made  the 
descent  at  that  season.  A  year  before,  a  prospector 
named  Forsyth,  against  the  advice  of  every  one,  had 
started  to  climb  to  the  summit.  That  he  was  suc 
cessful  was  proved  by  finding  him,  seven  months 
after,  at  the  bottom  of  a  twenty  foot  snow  drift,  a  few 
rods  from  the  top.  He  was  quite  dead.  It  was  this 
little  circumstance  that  troubled  me.  There  would  be 
no  particular  satisfaction  in  ascending  the  mountain  if 
I  could  not  get  down  again.  In  fact,  as  I  looked 

(58) 


OUR    EQUIPMENT.  59 

at  it,  quite  half  the  pleasure  in  mountain-climbing 
is  the  getting  down — safely. 

We  left  Kirby  at  sunrise  on  the  morning  of  Janu 
ary  12th.  There  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  the 
day  before,  which  had  rendered  all  trails  impassable. 
We  therefore  had  to  seek  a  new  route.  Our  party 
consisted  of  four,  namely,  two  brothers, — Jim  and 
Bill  Russell — natives  of  the  State,  strong,  active  and 
skilled  in  mountain  climbing,  learned  in  many  years 
experience  as  prospectors.  The  third  member  was 
Robert  Dawson,  a  young  mining  engineer,  and  the 
superintendent  of  the  Pay  Rock  mine  at  Kirby.  The 
fourth  was  myself.  The  storm  which  for  three  days 
had  raged  about  the  mountain  was  over,  and  the  weather 
was  bright  and  clear  and  even  mild,  for  that  altitude. 
We  were  warmly  dressed  in  heavy  woolen  clothing, 
wore  stout  walking  shoes,  shod  with  hobnails,  and 
carried,  strapped  to  our  shoulders,  knapsack  fashion, 
small  packs  weighing  about  fifteen  pounds  each.  In 
them  we  stowed  an  aneroid  barometer,  a  registering 
thermometer,  provisions  consisting  of  dried  beef  and 
biscuit,  and  a  blanket.  In  addition  to  this,  each  man 
carried  a  staff,  a  pair  of  snow-shoes  and  a  coil  of  strong 
rope,  about  thirty  feet  long,  wound  over  the  left 
shoulder  and  under  the  right  arm,  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  to  leave  the  arms  comparatively  free.  It  can 
be  seen  that  our  load  was  neither  light  nor  easy,  but 
we  traveled  with  as  little  as  we  dared. 

A  short  distance  out  of  the  camp  we  entered  the 
blind  canyon  of  Oknee ;  Bill  was  in  advance,  Bob 
Dawson  and  I  followed,  while  Jim  brought  up  the 
rear.  The  chasm  was  narrow  and  bounded  on  either 


60  THE    ASCENT    OF    UNCOMPAHGKE. 

side  by  abrupt  walls  of  gray  rock,  here  and  there  en 
livened  by  spots  of  snow  or  bunches  of  fir  apparently 
growing  out  of  the  solid  stone.  Occasionally,  as  the 
gorge  turned  to  the  right  or  left,  we  could  see  the 
Peak,  glowing  like  a  gilded  spire  in  the  early  morning 
sunlight.  For  an  hour  our  way  led  us  up  this  canyon, 
and  our  progress  was  quite  rapid,  there  being  no  ob 
struction  but  the  snow,  which  was  there  covered  with  a 
crust  sufficiently  strong  to  bear  us.  At  last  we  entered 
a  long,  narrow  amphitheatre,  the  upper  end  being 
blocked  by  perpendicular  walls  of  rock,  rising  sheer 
five  hundred  feet,  while  the  lower  end  through  which 
we  had  entered  seemed  closed  by  the  interlocking 
scarps  of  the  gorge.  Except  for  the  musical  trickle 
of  the  snow  water  and  the  occasional  crash  of  some  mass 
of  rock,  heaved  from  its  place  by  the  frost,  we  heard 
no  sound  save  our  own  labored  breathing,  made  diffi 
cult  by  the  thin  air  of  our  great  attitude  of  12,500  feet 
above  the  tides. 

A  short  rest  here  and  then  we  proceeded  to  devise 
means  of  escape.  The  walls  that  encompassed  us 
seemed  impregnable  ;  at  first  we  could  perceive  but 
one  exit  and  that  by  the  way  we  had  come.  But  a& 
we  approached  the  upper  left-hand  corner  of  the 
chamber,  we  saw  what  in  the  dim  light  we  had  be 
fore  overlooked ;  that  was  a  series  of  niches  in  the 
otherwise  smooth  cliff.  No  regular  steps,  nor  indeed 
an  incline,  but  six  or  seven  shelves  in  the  face  of  the 
rock,  which  had  been  made  by  the  decrepitation  of  the 
stone.  It  was  a  very  dubious  pathway,  narrow  and 
sloping  away  from  the  cliff  so  as  to  make  the  footing 
very  insecure,  but  it  seemed  practicable. 


OUT    OF    THE    CANYON.  61 

"We  soon  had  our  preparations  completed.  The  first 
shelf  was  about  twelve  feet  above  our  heads — quite 
beyond  reach — and  there  were  no  crevices  or  projec 
tions  in  the  rock  to  aid  us  in  climbing.  Forming  a 
three-sided  pyramid  by  standing  close  together  and 
locking  arms,  Bill,  being  the  lightest,  mounted  upon 
our  shoulders.  From  here  he  could  easily  reach  the 
shelf.  Getting  as  firm  a  hold  of  it  as  he  could,  he 
gave  a  spring  that  sent  us  staggering  away,  and  left 
him  hanging  in  the  air.  Then  with  a  quick,  power 
ful  effort  he  threw  himself  up  upon  the  ledge.  Once 
there,  he  passed  the  noose  of  the  rope  he  had 
taken  up  with  him  over  a  point  of  rock,  and 
lowered  the  other  end  to  us.  With  this  rope 
he  drew  up  our  packs  and  we  finally  followed 
him.  The  next  shelf  was  but  ten  feet  above  us,  and 
the  next  but  eight  feet  above  that,  and  these  distances 
we  easily  passed.  But  from  there  on  the  way  seemed 
closed,  for  above  us  rose  a  smooth  wall,  fully  seventy- 
five  feet,  unbroken  by  any  crack  or  projection.  The 
narrow  ledge  on  which  we  stood  hardly  gave  us  a 
footing,  and  any  unguarded  movement  on  our  part 
would  certainly  have  resulted  in  throwing  us  over  the 
«dge.  After  a  short  survey  of  the  situation  Jim  took 
three  ropes  and  carefully  knotting  them  together,  lean 
ed  far  out  over  the  ledge,  sustained  in  his  position  by 
our  united  weights,  we  having  hold  of  his  arm.  He 
swung  the  long  noose  twice  about  his  head  and  then, 
by  a  powerful  effort,  shot  it  up  into  the  air.  It  fell 
short  of  the  shelf  nearly  ten  feet,  and  dropped  back 
into  the  gulf,  detaching  as  it  went  a  shower  of  loose 
fragments.  Again  and  again  he  tried  this.  The 


62  THE    ASCENT    OF    UNCOMPAHGKE. 

third  time  the  rope  landed  on  the  ledge  but  did  not 
catch,  and  it  was  not  until  the  seventh  cast  that  he  was- 
successful ;  then  the  noose  settled  down  over  a  pro 
jection  in  the  rock  and  held  fast.  Up  this  rope  start 
ed  Bill  and  a  moment  later  a  shout  from  him  apprised 
us  of  his  safety.  Then  our  packs  followed,  and 
lastly  we.  I  went  first  and  it  was  a  long  and  hard 
climb.  I  continually  bumped  against  the  rocks,  bruis 
ing  my  hands  and  body.  Halfway  up  I  stopped  to 
rest — out  of  breath.  It  was  an  exciting  moment. 
Above  me,  thirty  feet,  was  the  shelf  on  which  Bill 
stood  ;  far  below  me  was  the  dark  gorge.  Curiously 
enough,  at  this  time,  hanging  as  I  was  on  a  slenderr 
insecurely  fastened  rope,  I  was  not  in  the  least  nerv 
ous,  and  I  surveyed  the  scene  about  me  almost  with 
pleasure.  A  moment  only  I  paused  ;  then  wrerit  on 
again  and  soon  stood  on  the  rock  by  Bill's  side.  Bob 
and  Jim  followed  me,  and  once  more  we  were  grouped 
together.  From  this  point  up  the  climbing  was  les& 
difficult ;  it  was  like  ascending  some  very  steep  incline. 
Bill  would  go  ahead,  hanging  to  the  rocks,  like  a  fly, 
with  his  toes  and  fingers,  until  he  reached  some  rest 
ing  place  where  he  could  contrive  to  attach  a  rope,, 
when  we  all  followed,  carrying  the  packs  and  steady 
ing  ourselves  by  the  cord.  In  this  way,  after  two 
hours  of  hard  work,  we  reached  the  top  and  turned  to 
look  back  into  the  crevasse  out  of  which  we  had  just 
emerged. 

It  was  nearly  a  thousand  feet  to  the  bottom  and 
not  altogether  a  pleasant  prospect.  But  around  and 
above  us  the  sight  was  grand.  Down  the  side- 
at  Our  left  stretched  the  mountain  slope,  until  it 


THE    SCENE.  63 

blended  with  the  foothills  that  rose  here  and 
there  like  gigantic  waves.  The  buildings  in  Kirby 
were  distinctly  visible,  and  we  could  see  even  the 
people  in  the  street.  Above  us  stood  the  ever-pres 
ent  peak,  white  and  sparkling.  The  view  was  unde 
niably  magnificent,  and  I  turned  to  Bob. 

"Isn't  it  superb?"  I  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  Possibly,"  he  answered  indifferently  ;  "  but  take 
away  the  mountains  and  it  wouldn't  amount  to  much." 

I  turned  away  impatiently ;  he  was  a  Philistine. 

Another  short  rest  and  we  started  ahead.  At  first 
the  climbing  was  easy ;  the  snow  was  still  covered 
with  a  crust  that  supported  us,  and  we  advanced 
rapidly  up  the  steep  and  rocky  incline.  We  were 
congratulating  ourselves  on  our  great  progress  when 
our  way  was  suddenly  stopped  by  a  crevasse,  about 
fifty  feet  wide,  but  of  vast  depth.  It  extended  to 
our  right  and  left  a  long  distance,  and  a  short  survey 
convinced  us  that  we  could  not  go  around  it ;  we  must 
cross  it.  The  question  was  how,  and  we  sat  down  in 
the  snow  to  rest  and  consult.  A  barometrical  obser 
vation  showed  our  elevation  to  be  13,700  feet,  and  the 
exceedingly  rarefied  air  made  our  breathing  very 
painful. 

-  "  How  deep  d'ye  call  this,  offhand  ?  "  asked  Bill  of 
his  brother. 

"Wai,"  said  Jim,  slowly  closing  one  eye  and  as 
suming  an  air  of  calculation,  "I  guess  't  's  'bout  two 
thousan'  feet,  more  or  less;  it's  quite  a  drop." 

It  was  plainly  impossible  to  climb  down  it  and  up 
the  other  side.  Cautiously  crawling  to  the  edge  we 
looked  over.  The  walls  of  the  canyon  went  down 


64:  THE    ASCENT    OF   UNCOMPAHGRE. 

without  a  break ;  worse  than  that,  the  opposite  side 
slanted  back  from  the  top,  so  that  the  ascent  would  be 
extra  hazardous  ;  very  much  like  climbing  up  the  side 
of  a  house  and  getting  over  the  eaves. 

"  We  might  chuck  a  rope  across,5'  said  Bill,  "and 
get  over  onto  that.  How  far  kin  you  throw,  Jim  ?  " 

Jim  closed  his  left  eye  again,  took  a  survey  of  the 
scene  and  making  a  rapid  mental  calculation  said  :  "  I 
reckon  I  kin  do  it." 

Taking  the  four  lengths  of  rope  we  had  brought,  he 
carefully  knotted  them  together  again  and  coiling  up 
the  slack  loosely,  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice, 
carrying  the  large  noose  in  his  right  hand.  With  his 
eye  he  carefully  estimated  the  distance  to  a  small 
boulder  that  was  perched  upon  the  opposite  side  of 
the  crevasse.  Then  he  slowly  swung  the  loop 
about  his  head,  opening  it  out  into  a  circle  by  a 
peculiar  twist  of  his  hand.  Again  and  again  did  the 
rope  weave  about  his  head,  until  at  last  he  sent  it  fly 
ing  through  the  air  across  the  gulf.  The  first  and 
second  throws  were  failures — the  noose  missed  the 
boulder ;  but  the  third  time  it  settled  down  over  the 
rock  and  held  fast,  our  united  weights  being  unable 
to  move  it.  We  then  secured  the  end  we  held  to  a 
jagged  spike  of  stone  that  stuck  up  near  the  edge 
and  our  bridge  was  done.  Over  this  frail  pathway  of 
a  single  rope,  knotted  and  chafed,  we  must  go.  It 
certainly  seemed  like  flying  in  the  face  of  a  previously 
beneficent  Providence,  but  we  had  gone  too  far  to 
turn  back ;  besides,  we  were  afraid  to. 

Our  knapsacks  had  become  exceedingly  annoying, 
and  chafed  our  shoulders  painfully;  but  we  could  not 


THE    BRIDGE.  65 

leave  them,  as  we  should  certainly  need  our  provisions 
and  blankets,  so  we  secured  them  again  in  place 
in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  our  arms  tolerably  free, 
and  made  ready  for  the  crossing. 

Jim  went  first :  he  claimed  this  privilege,  saying 
the  bridge  was  his — and  he  was  going — anyhow.  We 
let  him  ;  it  is  always  best  to  defer  to  others  in  little 
matters  of  this  kind.  Besides  the  rope  might  break. 
We  watched  him  carefully  let  himself  over  the  edge 
of  the  cliff  and  then,  grasping  the  cord  over  his  head, 
saw  him  make  his  way  across — hand  over  hand.  It 
took  less  than  a  minute  for  him  to  reach  the  other 
side,  yet  it  seemed  an  hour  to  us.  Bob  went  next,  and 
he  went  in  good  style,  never  looking  down,  but 
straight  ahead.  Midway  in  the  passage  he  stopped  to 
rest.  It  was  a  moment  of  great  anxiety  to  all  of  us. 
The  strain  on  the  rope  was  tremendous ;  as  he  hung 
there  in  the  middle,  his  weight  of  160  pounds  stretched 
the  cord  dangerously.  I  momentarily  expected  to 
hear  it  snap,  and  to  see  him  sent  flying  into  the  depths 
below.  But  it  hel,d  and  he  reached  the  other  side  in 
safety. 

Then  it  was  my  turn,  and  as  I  stepped  to  the  edge, 
Bill  called  to  me : 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  just  throw  your  weight  ez 
light  ez  ye  kin  onto  th'  rope,  fer  it's  beginnin'  to  chafe." 

I  examined  it  and  found  that  where  it  touched  the 
rock  it  had  been  worn  so  much  as  seriously  to  impair 
its  strength. 

"I  reckon  it'll  go  all  right,"  said  Bill,  "if  you're 
careful ;  anyhow  'twont  break  'fore  ye  git  to  the 
middle." 


OD  THE    ASCENT    OF   UNCOMPAHGKE. 

This  was  not  eminently  reassuring.  There  was  but 
very  little  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  it  would 
not  break  until  I  was  in  the  very  centre,  and  I  drew 
a  lightning  picture  of  myself,  hanging  in  mid  air,  to  a 
thread ;  then  I  saw  myself  striking  on  the  jagged 
rocks  beneath,  and  so  lifelike  was  the  sketch  that 
I  could  actually  hear  the  unresilient  thud  I  made. 
It  was  very  realistic  but — disagreeable.  My  reverie 
was  interrupted  by  William,  who  inquired  facetiously  : 

"Wai,  what  ye  cipherin'  on  now.  Warnt  thinkin' 
of  jumpin'  it,  was  ye?  " 

I  carefully  wrapped  my  handkerchief  about  the 
rope  where  it  was  chafed  and  started.  Again  I  was 
surprised  and  pleased  to  find  how  cool  I  was ;  all  my 
fears  had  been  anticipatory  ;  my  nerves  were  firmer 
than  when  I  stood  on  the  rock.  I  took  great  pains 
not  to  jar  or  strain  the  rope  unnecessarily,  and  I  never 
felt  lighter  in  my  life.  A  third  of  the  way  across  I 
stopped,  and  threw  my  left  leg  over  the  rope  to  re 
move  the  strain  on  my  arms.  The  scene  around  me 
was  a  wild  one.  Below,  many  hundred  feet,  yawned 
the  black  chasm,  its  bottom  only  visible  here  and 
there,  where  the  sunlight  penetrated  it.  A  moment 
sufficed  to  rest  me  and  I  went  on.  When  I  reached 
the  middle,  the  rope  sagged  perilously,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  I  could  feel  the  strands  parting.  I  shut  my  eyes 
and  hurried  over  the  dangerous  spot.  I  passed  it 
safely,  and  then  began  the  ascent.  This  was  compar 
atively  easy,  for  though  it  was  up-hill,  I  knew  the 
worst  was  over  and  that  I  was  secure.  Another  in- 
instant  and  I  was  standing  by  Dawson  and  Jim. 

Bill  followed  me  and  being  much  the  lightest  of  the 


SNOW-SHOES.  67 

party,  got  over  safely,  although  one  strand  of  the  rope 
parted  as  he  passed  the  centre.  The  next  question 
was,  how  to  loosen  the  further  end  of  our  bridge,  and 
this  was  quickly  settled.  We  all  laid  hold  of  the  rope 
and  with  a  "yo  !  heave  ho  !  "  fairly  broke  it  off  where 
it  had  worn  thin. 

Before  going  further  we  ate  our  lunch  of  pern  mi- 
can  and  biscuit,  and  took  a  short  rest.  But  it  was  a 
very  short  one,  for  we  were  still  nearly  a  thousand 
feet  from  the  top,  and  our  time  was  limited.  The 
snow  over  which  our  way  now  lay  had  become  too 
soft  to  walk  on  safely,  and  we  had  to  resort  to  snow- 
shoes. 

Any  one  who  has  ever  worn  these  conveniences  re 
members  his  first  experience.  I  do  mine.  To  begin 
with,  the  shoes  are  unnecessarily  long  and  many  times 
too  wide.  It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  walk  in  them 
in  the  ordinary  manner,  or  rather,  it  is  impossible  to 
take  more  than  one  step  in  that  way.  The  most  in 
experienced  can  always  take  one  step,  and  if  he  stops 
there  is  all  right.  Unlike  so  many  things  in  this  life, 
in  snow-shoeing  it  is  the  second  step  that  counts.  For 
you  step  on  your  heels  ;  you  step  on  your  toes  ;  you  step 
on  everything  but  the  snow,  and  you  end  finally  by 
standing  on  your  head  and  wildly  trying,  feet  in  air,  to 
step  on  the  galaxy  above.  Few  succeed  in  this  however, 
and  only  these  who  are  suffocated  in  the  drifts  and  as 
cend  the  golden  staircase.  I  wonder  if  they  still  wear 
their  snow-shoes  or  depend  on  their  wings.  And  if 
wings  then  why  is  the  staircase — but  I  wander. 

Fortunately  for  the  success  of  our  expedition  we 
had  all  had  some  experience  with  snow-shoes,  and 


68  THE    ASCENT    OF    UNCOMPAHGKE. 

could  walk  in  them  with  tolerable  ease,  so  in  a  few 
minutes  we  were  on  our  way  again.  Our  path  led 
over  an  immense  snow  field,  on  which  a  hard  crust 
had  formed  the  night  before,  but  which  the  sun  had 
now  so  softened  as  to  render  walking  without  snow- 
shoes  impossible.  The  field  was  of  immense  depth, 
of  glacial  formation,  being  plainly  part  of  the  ice  field 
that  formed  one  wall  of  the  mountain.  During  the 
summer  the  hot  sun  melts  the  snow  and  ice,  and  the 
streams  thus  created  dig  for  themselves  channels  in 
the  glacial  fields  in  exactly  the  same  manner  that  the 
mountain  torrents  have  ploughed  the  deep  canyons 
through  the  rocks. 

These  channels  are  generally  narrow  but  very  deep, 
and  when  the  frost  comes,  it  hardens  the  ice  walls  and 
fixes  them  immovably.  These  fields  are  also  pierced 
by  many  small  shafts,  unusually  made  in  this  way. 
Some  dark-colored  object,  a  leaf  or  a  stone  perhaps, 
falls  upon  the  snow.  Because  of  its  color  it  absorbs 
great  quantities  of  heat,  which  the  white  snow  reflects, 
and  so  the  stone  sinks  rapidly  below  the  surface.  A 
shaft  is  thus  bored  into  the  ice  field  and  often  extends 
many  feet  down.  In  this  manner  the  glaciers  be 
come  seamed  and  honeycombed  by  these  narrow,  deep 
openings  over  which,  in  winter,  the  snow  drifts,  form 
ing  bridges,  often  too  slender  to  more  than  support 
their  own  weights,  yet  which  effectually  conceal  the 
dangerous  pitfalls  beneath.  In  order  to  avoid  plung 
ing  into  one  of  these  abysses,  we  tied  ourselves  to 
gether  with  our  ropes.  Jim  again  took  the  lead,  I 
-came  second,  then  Dawson,  and  Bill  last.  The  cord 


DANGEROUS    ICE    FIELDS.  69 

was  securely  knotted  under  our  arms,  with  a  space  of 
about  twenty  feet  separating  us. 

We  proceeded  very  cautiously,  yet  as  rapidly  as 
possible,  for  we  still  had  a  long  distance  to  traverse 
and  many  obstacles  to  overcome.  Our  way  up  the 
slope  was  at  a  slight  incline,  and  we  advanced  about 
a  mile  and  a  half  without  accident.  We  were  often 
made  aware  of  our  peril  by  hearing  our  footsteps  re 
verberate  with  a  muffled  echo  as  we  crossed  some  frail 
snow  arch  that  spanned  an  abyss.  Once  Bill,  striking 
the  iron  point  of  his  staff  sharply  into  the  crust,  saw  it 
disappear  from  his  sight  as  he  relaxed  his  hold  on  it. 
It  had  pierced  the  snow  and  fallen  into  the  cavern 
beneath.  It  was  interesting  to  note  the  celerity  with 
which  we  hastened  forward  just  then ;  we  seemed  to 
be  actuated  by  a  common  impulse — particularly  Bill. 

All  at  once — without  warning — I  felt  a  sharp  tug 
on  the  rope,  that  nearly  threw  me  backwards;  then  a 
shout,  followed  by  the  rush  and  roar  as  of  an  avalanche. 
Had  there  been  any  slack  between  Jim  and  myself  I 
should  certainly  have  been  pulled  down,  but  the  rope 
being  taut,  I  managed,  with  the  help  of  his  great 
weight  and  strength,  to  maintain  my  position  and  half 
turn  around.  I  found  I  was  standing  on  the  extreme 
edge  of  a  crevasse,  into  which  Dawson  and  Bill  had 
been  thrown  by  the  breaking  of  the  snow  bridge  that 
had  carried  Jim  and  myself  safely  over.  They  were 
sustained  only  by  the  rope,  and  Bill,  as  he  swung  up 
against  the  wall  of  the  cut,  must  have  been  badly 
bruised.  It  was  fortunate  for  all  of  us  that  they  were 
light  and  we  heavy,  else  we  should  have  been  pulled 
into  the  pit  with  them.  As  it  was,  our  position  was 


70  THE    ASCENT    OF    ITNCOMPAHGRE. 

serious  enough.  By  careful  maneuvering  we  con 
trived  to  work  the  rope  into  a  Y  shape  crack  on  the 
edge  of  the  precipice  and  wedging  it  there  were  thus 
enabled  partially  to  remove  the  strain  upon  our  breasts. 
Still  we  dared  not  move,  and  we  were  obliged  to 
maintain  a  rigid  position,  straining  every  muscle  to 
prevent  being  drawn  over  the  edge.  Our  snow-shoes 
complicated  the  matter,  for  because  of  them  we  could 
get  no  grip  on  the  snow.  Standing  where  I  did  I 
could  look  straight  down  into  the  gulf.  The  green, 
icy  walls  looked  unpleasantly  cool  where  the  sun 
light  touched  them,  but  most  of  the  cavern  was  in 
semi-darkness.  It  was  a  fascinating  sight  and  one  I 
gazed  at  earnestly,  until  I  was  aroused  by  Dawson, 
his  voice  sounding  strangely  sonorous,  backed  by  the 
echoes.  u  Whenever  you  get  tired  boys,  we're  ready  to 
change  ends,"  he  said. 

We  were  tired  already,  but  not  able  to  change,  for 
an  unguarded  movement,  a  slip,  and  we  should  all  go 
into  the  pit  together.  I  leaned  over  slightly,  and  en 
deavoring  to  assume  a  jesting  tone,  said  : 

u  This  place  looks  like  the  mouth  of  a  hole,  boys." 
"/reckon  we'll  find  it  the  mouth  of  h — 1  if  any 
thing  happens  to  that  rope,"  said  Bill  profanely. 
"  Well,  hang  on  !  "  I  said,  "  hang  on  !  " 
A  smothered  laugh  came  from  Dawson.     "  Thanks, 
dear  boys,"  he  said,  "  but  the  advice  is  quite    unneces 
sary  ;  you  are  the   ones    to  hang  on  ;  we  can't  let  go  if 
we  tried." 

All  this  happened  in  much  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it,  and  the  two  men  had  not  been  in  the  hole  a 
minute  before  we  were  working  to  release  them.  By 


IN    THE   CKEVASSE.  71 

throwing  his  weight  heavily  on  the  rope,  Jim 
managed  to  get  down  upon  his  knees,  and  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  removed  his  snow-shoes,  so  that 
his  spiked  soles  gave  him  a  better  hold  on  the  ice. 
Then  I  contrived  to  do  the  same,  and  we  were  ready. 
What  made  our  task  so  difficult  was  the  fact  that  the 
two  men  were  securely  tied  fastened  together,  and  so 
we  had  to  raise  them  both  at  once.  This  our  strength 
was  unequal  to,  for  while  we  could  maintain  them 
where  they  were,  being  aided  by  the  friction  of  the 
rope  against  the  rocks,  the  same  friction  worked 
equally  against  our  efforts  to  pull  them  up.  We 
made  several  desperate  attempts  to  do  this,  but  were 
obliged  to  desist,  lest  we  should  wear  the  rope. 

"Don't  hurry  yourselves,  gentlemen,"  saidDawson 
from  below ;  "not  the  slightest  good  in  hurrying,  but 
I  should  like  to  get  out  sometime  this  month.  I  have 
an  engagement  on  the  27th  and  to-day  is  the  12th." 

Jim  began  to  grow  excited.  "  Hang  on  !  boy,  hang 
on  !  "  he  shouted. 

"  Dear  Jim,"  said  Dawson,  plaintively,  "  have  we 
not  assured  you  that  we  could  not  let  go  ?  We're  tied  ! 
We  cannot  slip  unless  you  do,  but  we're  slowly  freez 
ing  to  death.  A  few  short  hours  and  all  will  be  over." 

A  chuckle  from  Bill  showed  that  he  was  alive  at 
any  rate. 

"  Bill !  "  shouted  Jim,  "  can't  you  ontie  yourself  an' 
come  up  the  rope  ?  " 

"  I've  been  tryin'  to  all  this  time,  but  the  durned 
galoot  that  tied  this  rope  made  such  a  cussed  knot  in  it 
I  can't." 


72  THE   ASCENT    OF    UNCOMPAHGRE. 

"  Oh  !  the  ingratitude  of  man  ; "  said  Bob.  "  I  my 
self  well  and  truly  tied  that  knot  and  now  I  am  called 
a  galoot.  William,  you're  another.  Cut  it !  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  I  will ;  here  goes  ;  look  out."  There 
was  quiet  for  a  few  seconds,  followed  by  jerks  and 
fierce  pulls  on  the  rope ;  then  we  heard  Bob's  voice? 
saying :  "  Excuse  me,  Bill,  but  if  you  could  take 
your  left  snow-shoe  out  of  my  eye  I  should  feel 
duly  grateful.  It  seems  to  impair  my  sight  a  trifle." 

Then  came  a  half  laugh  from  Bill  and  the  next  in 
stant  his  head  appeared  above  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
and  he  stood  by  my  side,  looking  as  cool  and 
calm  as  ever.  He  still  wore  his  snow  shoes  which  he 
had  been  unable  to  remove  without  losing,  and  which 
had  occasioned  Bob's  remonstrance.  He  quickly 
kicked  these  off  and  joined  us  upon  the  rope.  The 
weight  was  now  largely  on  our  side  so  that  we  were 
easily  able  to  pull  up  Dawson,  and  once  more  we  stood 
together. 

We  had  little  time  to  waste  however ;  it  was  nearly 
four  o'clock  ;  the  sun  was  just  touching  the  mountain 
tops  ;  the  air  was  rapidly  becoming  colder  and  the  light 
was  fading.  We  saw  we  could  never  reach  the  sum 
mit  that  night  and  our  object  then  was  to  make  our 
selves  as  comfortable  as  possible.  Even  as  we  spoke 
the  sun  was  gone ;  the  mountain  summit  looked  bare 
and  cold ;  a  biting  chill  swept  over  us.  The  night 
had  come.  We  hurried  on  to  find  a  place  to  camp. 
There  was  very  much  less  danger  now  of  breaking 
through  the  crust,  for  the  strong  hand  of  frost  had 
strengthened  all  the  snow  bridges.  We  found  a  place 


ABOVE    TIMBER BELOW    ZERO.  73 

that    was     sheltered,  and    went    into    camp    there. 

I  have  never  passed  such  another  night  in  all  my  life. 
The  cold  was  intense  ;  we  were  without  any  fire,  with 
only  some  rocks  to  keep  the  wind  off  and  but  one  light 
blanket  apiece.  Before  lying  down  we  set  the  regis 
tering  thermometer  and  read  the  barometer.  The 
temperature  was  4°  Far.  above  zero ;  the  barometer 
indicated  an  altitude  of  13,820  feet. 

We  had  all  we  could  do  that  night  to  keep  from 
freezing,  but  we  contrived  it  some  way.  We  did  not 
dare  go  to  sleep,  and  we  passed  the  time  keeping 
each  other  awake.  It  was  a  wonder  we  did  not  freeze 
our  hands  or  feet.  Morning  came  at  last  and  found 
us  worn  out,  cold  and  stiff.  In  our  scrambles  of  the 
day  before  we  had  pounded  ourselves  considerably, 
and  the  cold  served  to  develop  these  bruises  until  we 
ached  all  over.  At  daylight  the  mercury  showed  a 
temperature  of  12°  below  zero.  We  ate  a  meagre 
breakfast  of  biscuit  and  pemmican  and  drank  a  little 
whiskey.  Hot  tea  we  knew  was  much  better  than, 
spirits  at  such  a  time,  but  there  was  an  insuperable  ob 
jection  to  tea  then — we  didn't  have  any.  After 
breakfast  we  approached  the  final  obstacle.  This 
presented  tremendous  difficulties,  seemingly  insur 
mountable,  but  we  had  gone  too  far  to  turn  back,  short 
of  complete  success. 

We  found  ourselves  standing  at  the  foot  of  a  wall 
of  stone,  forming  the  sides  of  a  rocky  cylinder,  which 
made  the  cap  or  crown  of  the  mountain  peak.  The 
wall  was  fully  sixty  feet  high  at  its  lowest  point,  and 


74:  THE    ASCENT   OF    UNCOMPAHGKE. 

to  reach  the  summit  we  must  scale  this  cylinder.  This 
we  did  as  the  day  before  we  had  ascended  the  side  of 
the  canyon,  that  is,  by  casting  a  noose  over  a  point  of 
rock  and  then  going  up  the  rope,  hand  over  hand  ;  and 
at  exactly  four  minutes  past  ten  o'clock,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  thirteenth  day  of  January,  we  stood  on  the 
apex  of  Uncompahgre  and  looked  about  us. 

The  scene  was  one  of  indescribable  grandeur ;  we 
were  surrounded  by  the  Rolling  Eockies,  but  rocky 
then  in  name  only,  for  everything  was  softened  and 
whitened  by  the  snow.  Below  us  were  the  mountain 
slopes,  rising  in  graceful  curves  until  they  could  rise 
no  further  and  the  mountain  peaks  were  formed.  I 
have  watched  the  sea  during  a  storm,  and  the  appear 
ance  of  the  waves  at  that  time,  as  seen  from  the  main- 
topsail  yard,  was  wonderfully  like  the  sight  we  looked 
down  upon  from  the  summit  of  Uncompahgre.  The 
yeasty  foam  that  covered  the  crests  of  the  waves 
made  them  white  as  snow,  and  in  the  south  we  saw 
the  peaks  of  Wilson  and  Lamborn,  looking  like  two  dis 
masted  wrecks.  For  miles  and  miles  about  us  stretched 
the  mountains,  rising  up  and  up,  until  the  white  out 
lines  of  their  summits  blended  with  and  were  lost  in 
the  clouds  they  pierced.  The  bright  morning  sun 
shone  on  the  qcean  of  frozen  billows  beneath  us,  and 
added  to  the  strangeness  of  everything,  for  while  the 
eastern  slopes  were  sparkling  in  the  yellow  light,  the 
western  sides  were  still  shrouded  in  dusk.  A  sense  of 
remoteness  came  over  me  as  I  stood  there ;  I  felt  like 
the  Last  Man.  "  What  countless  ages  it  has  taken  to 


MEDITATION.  75 

get  this  world  into  its  present  condition,"  I  thought, 

•"  and  how  many  more  will  it  be  before " 

"  Look  ahere ! "  said  Bill,  rudely  interrupting  my 
reverie ;  "  you  look  as  if  you  was  thinkin'  of  buyin' 
the  hull  bloomin'  universe.  What  do  you  call  it  wuth, 
now  ?  " 


V.  THE  DESCENT  OF  UNCOMPAHGRE. 

After  making  observations  with  the  barometer 
and  determining  the  altitude  to  be  14,226  feet,  we  pre 
pared  to  make  the  descent.  A  careful  examination  of 
our  rope  disclosed  that  it  had  become  very  much  worn 
and  shortened.  It  would  be  necessary  to  use  it  with 
extreme  care.  But  the  greatest  difficulty  that  pre 
sented  itself  was  how  to  detach  the  cord  after  we  had 
all  descended  to  the  slope  beneath.  Various  plans 
were  proposed  and  rejected  as  impracticable,  and  after 
an  hour's  fruitless  talk,  we  were  forced  to  the  painful 
conclusion  that  one  of  our  party  must  be  left  behind 
to  cast  off  the  noose.  The  certainty  that  this  was 
unavoidable  was  very  depressing. 

Then  arose  the  interesting  question  :  "  Who  should 
stay  ? "  and  we  decided  this  by  lot.  I  tore  four  leaves 
out  of  my  note  book,  and  on  three  wrote  "  Go"  and  on 
the  other  "  Sta/y"  I  folded  them  up  into  exactly 
similar  pellets,  and  buried  them  deep  in  a  snow 
drift.  Simultaneously,  we  all  inserted  our  hands  into 
the  snow,  and  groping  about,  each  brought  out  his 
paper.  I  never  shall  forget  the  look  of  dread  that 
overspread  the  faces  of  my  companions  as  they  pro 
ceeded  to  read  their  fate.  Bob  looked  at  his  slip  and 
his  face  lit  up  as  he  read,  "  Go  !  "  Bill  nervously  tore 

(76) 


DESERTED.  77 

his  as  lie  opened  it  and  fairly  shouted  as  he  saw  he 
was  safe.  As  for  phlegmatic  Jim,  when  he  heard  the 
others  announce  their  luck  he  turned  coolly  to  me  and 
said  :  "  It's  even  chance  'twixt  me  an'  you,  boy.  I 
aint  looked  at  mine  nor  you  at  yours ;  how'll  ye 
trade,  sight  unseen,  just  fur  luck  ?  " 

It  seemed  absolutely  ghastly  to  jest  at  such  a  time, 
but  I  handed  him  my  unopened  sheet,  and  looking  at 
the  one  he  gave  me  I  saw,  "  Stay  !  "  Like  a  fool  I 
had  given  away  my  life. 

Our  leave-taking  was  short.  My  companions  warm 
ly  pressed  my  hand,  and  promised  to  return  at  once 
to  my  rescue.  Bob  said,  with  the  tears  in  his  eyes : 

"  Good-bye,  old  fellow,  good-bye !  Keep  up> 
won't  you  ? "  (This  was  rubbing  it  in  a  little,  I 
thought ;  I  couldn't  help  keeping  up.)  "  I'd  never  leave 
you  in  the  world  if  I  weren't  sure  I  should  see  you  to 
morrow.  You've  got  provisions  and  blankets,  and  you 
can  amuse  yourself  with  the  barometer  and  thermome 
ter.  Good-bye !  God  bless  you,"  and  he  was  over 
the  cliff  before  I  could  say  a  word.  So  were  the 
others,  and  in  a  minute  more  I  heard  them  calling  out 
to  me,  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  to  cast  off  the  rope. 
Mechanically  I  did  so,  and  as  I  looked  down  upon 
them  Bob  sang  out  cheerily,  "  Keep  up,  old  man  ; 
I'll  be  up  to-morrow,"  but  I  heard  him  indis 
tinctly. 

My  companions  had  promised  to  head  a  party  for 
my  rescue,  but  I  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  do  so. 
Our  own  ascent  had  taken  a  day  and  a  half  ;  the 
mountain  was  hourly  becoming  more  difficult,  and 


78  THE    DESCENT    OF    UNCOMPAHG-KE. 

should  another  snow-storm  come  on,  the  way  would  be 
closed  for  months.  Moreover,  allowing  that  they  did 
succeed  in  re-ascending  the  mountain,  could  I  live  un 
til  they  reached  me  ?  For  the  cold  was  intense  ;  the 
thermometer  then  read  20°  below,  and  that  meant 
death  to  me.  Of  course  a  fire  was  out  of  the  question,, 
but  I  did  the  best  I  could  ;  I  wrapped  myself  up  in  my 
blankets  and  burrowed  in  the  snow  to  my  chin. 

The  day  was  beautiful ;  the  sky  blue  and  clear,  as  it 
so  often  is  in  Colorado,  and  the  air  transparent  to  a 
remarkable  degree.  My  companions  were  just  in 
sight,  skimming  rapidly  along  on  their  snow-shoes.  As 
I  watched  them  I  fell  asleep,  and  slept  soundly  and 
drearnlessly  for  four  hours.  When  I  awoke  it  was- 
about  three  in  the  afternoon,  but  a  change  had  come 
over  the  scene.  At  first  I  could  not  recall  where  I 
was,  but  gradually  a  realization  of  my  position  stole 
over  me.  Slowly  freezing  and  starving  to  death  on 
the  top  of  a  lonely  mountain  !  I  reproached  my  com 
panions  for  deserting  me  ;  I  reproached  my  weakness 
in  allowing  them  to  go  ;  I  regretted  ever  having  left 
home — I  did  a  lot  of  silly  and  useless  things  just  then. 
Silly  and  useless  they  certainly  were,  for  they  neither 
helped  nor  comforted  me. 

The  sun,  which  at  eleven  o'clock  shone  bright  and 
clear,  was  now  obscured  by  thick  clouds;  the  wind 
was  rising  and  moaned  around  the  rocky  corners  in  a 
ghostly  way.  A  fierce  mountain  storm  was  begin 
ning.  The  air  appeared  to  be  peopled  with  spirits ;  I 
seemed  to  be  made  up  of  two  persons  ;  one  my  right 
hand — the  other  my  left.  "  Up  here,"  said  my  left 
hand,  "  is  it  not  a  proper  abode  for  the  homeless  souls- 


A   MOUNTAIN    STORM.  79 

of  dead  men  ?  Could  they  be  less  in  the  world  and 
still  out  of  it  in  any  other  place  ? "  "  What  of  it  ?  " 
said  my  right  hand,  to  my  left  hand  questioner: 
"  Shall  we  not  soon  be  ourself  a  dead  man?"  I  laughed 
as  I  noticed  the  odd  use  of  the  editorial  we. 

It  grew  dark  very  rapidly,  and  as  the  day  faded  I 
could  faintly  see  the  scattered  lights  of  Kirby. 
Nearer  to  rne — a  little  way  up  the  slope — shone  the 
white  gleam  of  an  electric  arc  light,  that  the  Pay 
Rock  Mining  Company  kept  burning  over  their  shaft- 
house.  I  even  fancied  I  could  hear  the  clink  of  the 
drills  that  I  knew  were  at  work  in  the  mine.  But 
this  was  impossible,  for  no  sounds  could  have  traveled 
such  a  distance  in  that  rare  air.  My  senses  were 
keenly  active,  and  I  took  an  extraordinary  interest  in 
my  physical  condition.  I  lost  the  feeling  of  mental 
depression  that  had  lately  overcome  me ;  every  nerve 
was  now  taut,  and  for  the  first  time  since  my  comrades 
left  me  I  began  to  think  I  could  escape.  I  counted 
my  respirations  and  found  I  was  breathing  thirty 
times  a  minute;  my  pulse  was  making  ninety-five 
beats.  Suddenly,  the  air  seemed  to  grow  colder  ;  the 
wind  which  had  been  blowing  with  fearful  velocity 
lulled  for  an  instant,  and  then — down  came  the  snow 
in  great  white  flakes. 

It  was  a  mountain  storm  true  enough,  for  the  snow 
filled  the  air  in  an  almost  solid  mass.  I  could  only 
breathe  by  sheltering  my  face  in  my  hands.  The  gale 
began  with  redoubled  fury,  and  seemed  to  fairly  shake 
the  mountain,  as  it  struck  against  it  with  tremendous 
force.  It  caught  my  blankets  and  rushed  them  out 


80          THE  DESCENT  OF  UNCOMPAHGKE. 

into  the  wind-swept  blackness  about  me ;  it  almost 
carried  me  over  the  cliff  and  I  barely  saved  myself  by 
taking  shelter  behind  a  boulder.  As  I  crouched 
there,  I  felt  it  rocking  ;  it  swung  a  little  as  if  poised 

on  its  centre ;  then  it  fell  with  a . 

I  find  I  am  getting  into  a  very  awkward  position, 
without  the  least  show  for  escape  alive,  and  I  think 
I  had  better  leave  matters  where  they  are.  My  im 
pression  is  that  I  jumped — finally. 


VI.   BURIED  UNDER  AN  AVALANCHE. 

There  is  a  saying  current  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
that  u  If  you  want  to  go  anywhere  you'd  better  start 
two  days  before  you're  ready,"  implying  by  this  that 
otherwise  you  are  sure  to  be  late.  Those  travelers  on 
a  certain  train  on  a  certain  road  in  Colorado,  during 
the  month  of  a  certain  January  established  the  truth 
of  this  saw  beyond  a  perad  venture. 

It  was  a  southern  bound  train,  and  when  it  reached 
Colorado  Springs  it  ran  into  a  heavy  snow-storm.  At 
Pueblo  the  gale  was  at  its  height,  and  twenty  miles 
beyond,  the  road  became  impassable  and  the  train 
stuck  fast  in  a  drift.  The  fires  in  the  locomotive  were 
soon  extinguished  and  the  huge  mass  became  inert 
and  helpless. 

Only  those  who  have  been  snow-bound  on  an  open 
prairie  can  form  any  idea  of  our  situation  and  our 
powerlessness.  The  wind  roared  and  howled  as  it 
blew  down  upon  us  a  furious  storm  from  the  north 
east,  and  the  snow  fell  upon  everything,  swiftly  cover 
ing  the  land  and  burying  the  train  out  of  sight.  There 
was  snow  everywhere.  To  the  eastward  for  hundreds 
of  miles,  lay  a  vast,  rolling  prairie,  yet  so  fast  fell  the 
snow  and  so  blinding  was  it,  that  our  vision  was 
bounded  a  few  yards  away  by  a  thick,  impenetrable 
wall  of  white.  Westward,  twenty-five  miles,  were 

(81) 


82  BURIED    UNDER    AN    AVALANCHE. 

the  mountains,  yet  between  them  and  us  hung  a  screen 
of  snow-flakes  and  they  were  invisible.  To  the  north 
and  south  stretched  the  railroad  that  bound  us  with  iron 
ties  to  civilization,  but  this  too  was  buried  deep  out  of 
sight.  The  very  air  was  turned  into  a  solid  bank  of 
snow,  and  we  fairly  gasped  for  breath  as  we  faced 
the  storm. 

A  curious  way  the  snow  seemed  to  fall.  Tumbling 
down  one  moment  the  broad  white  flakes  came ;  tumb 
ling  up  the  next  they  went,  as  if  suddenly  met  by 
some  force  that  sent  them  bounding  into  the  air,  back 
whence  they  started.  Kaleidoscopic  figures  in  white 
danced  and  played  all  manner  of  merry  games  to  the 
music  of  the  North  Wind,  that  whistled  a  discordant 
and  shrill  refrain  through  the  crevices  and  round  the 
corners  of  the  car.  A  Midwinter  Night's  Dream  it 
was,  and  it  was  cold  too,  bitter  cold  !  Snow  !  snow  ! 
snow  !  it  was  everywhere  and  it  was  everything.  The 
train  was  snow  ;  the  land  was  snow  ;  the  air  wras  snow. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  Earth  had  suddenly  put^on  a  white 
veil  and  been  married  to  Jack  Frost. 

Once  or  twice  there  loomed  up  through  the  mists 
that  enveloped  us,  the  forms  of  stray  cattle,  drifting 
helplessly  before  the  storm  like  rudderless  ships, 
but  even  these  were  white  with  the  snow,  and  no 
sooner  did  we  see  them  than  they  disappeared  and 
nothing  remained  but  the  blank  walls. 

Twenty  hours  we  lay  thus,  dull  and  desperate. 
Twenty  hours,  with  nothing  to  do  but  be  miserable, 
and  nothing  to  look  at  but  each  other.  Four  passen 
gers  sat  in  the  smoking  compartment  of  the  Pullman 
car  Las  Vegas.  Three  were  men  with  large  mining 


HUNGKY.  S3- 

interests  in  New  Mexico ;  they  had  spent  many  years 
in  the  mountains  and  had  prospered.  They  were 
known  to  each  other  as  the  Colonel,  the  Professor  and 
the  Judge,  and  I  soon  fell  into  the  habit  of  thus  ad 
dressing  them. 

Why  these  four  men  were  in  the  smoking-room  it 
would  be  difficult  to  say,  for  they  were  not  smoking ; 
they  had  long  been  deprived  of  that  luxury.  Tobacco 
in  any  form,  at  the  end  of  twenty  hours,  was  as  much 
a  stranger  as  Hope.  The  train  boy,  who  at  Pueblo 
experienced  considerable  difficulty  in  selling  his  cigars 
at  five  cents  apiece,  within  four  hours  after  we  were 
blockaded  cleared  out  his  entire  stock  at  a  net  price  of 
twenty-five  cents,  and  was  heard  later  bitterly  regret 
ting  not  having  asked  fifty.  This  was  American  en 
terprise. 

At  the  end  of  twenty  hours  in  the  drift  we  were 
apparently  no  nearer  rescue  than  at  the  beginning, 
for  the  snow  still  fell  and  the  wind  still  blew  and  the 
banks  of  white  grew  higher  and  higher.  We  had  ex 
hausted  all  the  available  devices  for  killing  time,  such 
as  card-playing,  reading,  chatting  and  sleeping.  There 
was  but  one  thing  we  had  not  tried  to  any  extent,  and 
that  was — eating.  During  all  that  time  we  had  fasted, 
and  the  depression  of  spirits  that  always  accompanies 
an  empty  stomach,  slowly  settled  down  upon  us,  and 
we  sat  silent  and  sullen,  eying  one  another  in  a  half- 
savage  way,  neither  reassuring  nor  calculated  to  raise 
the  general  tone  of  the  party.  The  car  began  to  grow 
unpleasantly  cool ;  the  penetrating  wind  found  out 
the  unchinked  crevices  and  made  frantic  efforts  to- 
reach  us,  and  it  became  necessary  to  put  on  our  over- 


84  BUEIED    UNDER    AN    AVALANCHE. 

•coats.  I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  mingled  sur 
prise  and  joy  that  spread  over  the  Judge's  rugged 
face,  as  he  thrust  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his 
overcoat  and  pulled  out,  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  old 
newspaper,  a  genuine  doughnut.  Neither  can  I  ad 
equately  describe  my  own  feelings.  For  it  was  none  of 
your  imitation  affairs,  that  can  be  digested  in  a  week 
or  less.  Not  at  all !  This  was  a  real,  tangible  con 
trivance,  ring-shaped,  brown  and  harder  than  Christian 
Charity.  There  could  be  no  question  about  its  genuine 
ness,  and  its  appearance  was  hailed  by  the  four  with 
emotion.  No  matter  if  it  was  so  dry  and  tough  it  was 
impossible  to  break ;  all  the  better,  in  fact,  since  it 
would  take  so  much  longer  to  digest,  and  thus  give  our 
stomachs  more  occupation.  With  the  nicest  care  and 
mathematical  exactness  the  treasure  was  cut  into  four 
equal  parts,  and  quickly  vanished  down  four  throats. 
Then  a  most  remarkable  change  came  over  the  faces 
of  all.  From  being  gloomy  and  despondent,  we  be 
came  light-hearted  and  talkative ;  pleased  as  to  the 
past  and  hopeful  as  to  the  future.  The  humanizing  ef 
fect  of  the  doughnut  was  wonderful. 

"  It  occurs  to  me,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  that  the  hull 
of  a  man's  moral  intelligence  is  located,  to  a  degree, 
in  his — er — stummick.  Fifteen  minutes  ago  I  was 
fightin'  ugly ;  now  if  a  feller  was  to  smite  me,  I 
reckon  I'd  let  it  pass." 

The  Judge  cleared  his  throat  with  a  loud  ahem ! 
and  remarked  slowly : 

"  That  quarter-section  of  doughnut  done  me  good 
too.  I  remember  once,"  here  he  settled  himself  in 
his  seat  and  assumed  the  attitude  of  a  man  about  to 


ON  THE  MAROON  CREEK  ROAD.          85- 

relate  a  story,  "  I  remember  once  I  was  ketched  into 
a  little  snow-slide  up  in  the  mountains,  when  the  cir 
cumstances  was  peculiar.  I  had  been  prospectin'  all 
the  fall  up  in  the  Gunnison  country,  I  and  Major  Bill 
Tuttle,  my  pardner,  and  when  winter  came  we  'lowed 
we'd  just  put  up  a  shanty  on  the  Maroon  Creek  road 
and  live  there  'till  spring.  You  see,  we  was  not  flush 
just  then,  an'  we  wanted  to  be  ekernomical.  We 
picked  out  a  likely  spot  on  a  pretty  tol'able  steep  hill, 
but  protected  by  a  heavy  gro'th  of  timber  from 
snow-slides,  and  we  put  up  a  very  substantial  log 
cabin.  You  know  the  kind,  Cornel ;  the  rear  end  was 
the  dirt  of  the  hill  an'  the  ruff  sloped  forward,  made 
of  clay."  The  Colonel  nodded. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  right  likely  place,  and  afore  we 
was  done  a  party  of  four  other  prospectors  come 
along,  and  built  themselves  a  camp  side  by  side.  On 
the  mornin'  of  the  13th  day  of  January — I  'member 
the  day  like  as  if  'twas  yesterday — as  we  run  short  of 
grub,  Bill  'lowed  he'd  go  to  the  railroad  an'  fetch 
some  in  'fore  snow  come.  I  didn't  mind  beiri'  alone,  fur 
there  was  my  neighbors  close  to  hand,  and  we  all 
passed  the  time  pretty  quietly  an'  comfortably,  play- 
in'  old  sledge  or  poker. 

"  Well  sir,  on  the  20th  of  that  month,  just  a  week 
after  Bill  left,  it  come  on  to  snow,  an'  it  certainly  did 
snow  for  all  'twas  worth,  an'  could  git  credit  for,  just 
like  it's  doin'  now.  It  snowed  for  two  days  an' 
nights — steady — and  then  let  up  an'  begun  to  thaw. 
On  the  night  of  the  22d,  I  was  over  to  the  other 
cabin  with  the  boys,  havin'  a  little  D.  P.  an'  maybe  a 
little  somethin'  to  keep  the  snow  out — snow's  a  power- 


86  BUKIED    TJNDEK    AN   AVALANCHE. 

fnl  bad  thing  for  a  man  to  git  into  him  in  winter, 
Cornel,  as  you  know — 'taint  so  disastrous  in  summer — 
an'  'long  about  twelve  I  started  for  home.  It  was 
snowin'  then  powerfully,  an'  th'  old  shanty  was  half 
out  o'  sight,  but  I  got  there  and  tumbled  into  bed,  'just 
'coutered  as  I  was,' ':  —here  the  Judge  waved  his  hand 
in  graceful  accompaniment  to  the  quotation,  and  the 
Colonel  nodded  approvingly. 

u  I  closed  the  door,  it  was  a  very  heavy  one  and 
fitted  snug ;  the  heavy  shutter  over  the  single  winder 
was  shut  already,  an'  then  I  went  to  sleep.  When  I 
woke  up  the  room  was  dark  an'  cold.  Some  ways  I 
didn't  feel  sleepy,  sort  of  slept  out,  so  I  got  up  an'  lit 
a  match  an'  looked  at  my  watch.  It  pointed  to  ten 
o'clock  and  eight  minutes,  which  was  mighty  surpris- 
in'  to  me,  for  I  didn't  cal'late  I  had  just  slept  clear 
into  the  next  night,  for  'twas  night  I  knew,  bein'  so 
dark.  The  watch  was  going  regular,  an'  then  I  started 
for  th'  door  to  have  a  look  at  the  weather.  But  there 
warnt  any  weather  to  be  seen,  for  I  couldn't  git  the 
door  open.  I  pushed,  an'  I  kicked,  an'  I  pounded, 
but  she  wouldn't  budge,  and  all  at  once  it  come  to 
me  that  I  was  buried  in  the  snow  ! 

"  Gen'lemen,  when  that  impression  struck  me,  at 
first  I  was  amazed  and  dumfounded,  but  I  was  soon 
all  right.  As  I  figgered  it  out,  a  snow-slide  had,  like 
as  not,  come  down  the  mountain,  an'  just  covered  up 
the  old  shanty  out  o'  sight.  And  I  figgered  that  as 
it  come  rippin'  down  the  slope  it  went  tearin'  through 
them  trees,  breakin'  'em  off  an'  pullin'  'em  up,  and 
they  just  stretched  over  the  cabin  an'  sort  o'  bolstered 
up  the  snow,  so's  to  keep  it  from  smashin'  in  the  ruff. 


IN   THE    DARK.  87 

But  I  'lowed  they  was  a  fearful  weight  on  the  old 
shanty,  an'  I  set  to  work,  first  thing,  proppin'  it  up. 
I  knew  as  long  as  that  snow  laid  over  the  cabin  I 
could  never  dig  through  it,  'cause  of  the  trees  and 
limbs,  for  I'd  never  an  axe  by  me,  an'  all  I  could  do 
was  to  wait  for  help  to  come.  If  the  men  in  th'  other 
cabin  warnt  buried  themselves,  or  killed,  they'd  dig 
me  out,  and  if  they  was,  I  knew  Bill  'ud  be  back  'fore 
long.  On'y  two  things  bothered  me :  First,  I 
couldn't  have  a  fire,  by  reason  of  the  chimley  bein' 
stopped  by  the  snow,  an'  they  was  no  way  fur  the 
smoke  to  git  out,  and  so  I  might  freeze  to  death.  Sec 
ond,  was  the  starvin'.  When  Bill  left  me  I  was 
mighty  short  o'  pervisions,  and  for  the  last  two  days  I 
was  entirely  out  an'  had  been  boardin'  over  to  the 
other  camp,  expectin'  to  pay  back  when  Bill  come. 

u  Well,  gen'lemen,  I  made  a  careful  search  through 
the  cabin  fur  somethin'  to  eat,  an'  all  I  found  was  a 
little  salt  pork,  a  small  piece  of  salt  codfish,  a  little 
bit  o'  taller  candle,  an'  some  bakin'  powder.  The 
candle  I  'lowed  not  to  burn,  but  just  keep  fur  the 
last  in  the  case  of  sickness,  but  the  pork  and  codfish 
I  cut  up  into  little  chunks,  and  found  I  had  'bout 
enough  to  sustain  me  fur  three  days,  allowin'  fair  ra 
tions  each  day.  I  realized  that  I  musn't  scrimp  my 
self,  fur  if  I  was  to  get  weak  I'd  succumb  to  the  cold. 
There  was  just  one  thing  I  didn't  think  of  then,  an' 
that  was  water.  I  wasn't  takin'  very  much  water 
them  days,  an'  so  I  naturally  overlooked  it. 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  I  made  my  plans,  I  eat  some  of 
my  first  day's  allowance,  and  blowin'  out  the  candle, 
found  myself  in  darkness.  But  before  doin'  this  I 


88  BURIED    UNDER    AN    AVALANCHE. 

looked  at  my  watch  and  saw  'twas  u  few  minutes  past 
'leven.  Then,  in  order  to  keep  warm  and  occupy 
my  mind,  I  begun  dancin'  and  jumpin'  about, 
exercisin'  as  much  as  the  narrer  limits  an'  darkness 
would  allow.  I  kept  this  up  more  or  less  for  may  be 
three  hours,  till  I  was  out  o'  breath  and  dead  tired, 
and  then  feelin'  warm  and  drowsy,  I  rolled  myself  up 
in  all  the  blankets  they  was  in  the  cabin  and  lay  down 
on  the  bunk  and  fell  asleep. 

"  Well  sir,  I  was  woke  up  by  a  most  awful  thirst ; 
my  mouth  and  throat  fairly  ached,  and  my  tongue  was 
dry  and  parched.  The  feelin'  was  terrible,  an'  hardly 
realizin'  my  situation  I  jest  jumped  up  to  get  some 
water.  But  I'd  no  sooner  touched  the  floor  than  the 
hull  thing  flashed  into  my  mind  ;  I  was  helpless.  All 
round  me  was  '  water,  water  everywhere,  an'  nary 
drop  to  drink.'  "  Here  the  Judge  made  a  slight  pause 
to  note  the  effect  of  this  quotation,  which  being  well 
received  he  went  on  : 

"  !N"o  sir  ;  not  a  drop,  for  I  couldn't  reach  the  snow 
to  save  my  life  ;  I  was  bound  in  too  tight.  The  win 
der  I  knew  was  barred,  an'  the  door  I  had  already 
tried  to  open  an'  failed.  In  the  hope  of  gettin'  some- 
thin'  to  moisten  my  throat,  I  bit  a  piece  off'en  the  tal 
ler  candle  an'  slowly  swallered  it.  It  was  disgustin' 
but  it  give  me  a  little  relief.  But  from  that  moment 
the  dreadful  horror  of  my  situation  slowly  grew  on 
me  ;  the  cold  got  more  intense,  an'  I  slowly  felt  its  chill 
creepin'  over  me,  as  I  sat  there  motionless  in  the 
dark.  Hours  passed  so ;  my  mouth  and  throat  were 
still  unrnoistened  and  my  distress  grew  greater  with 
each  minute.  I  begun  to  feel  drowsy,  an'  this  grad- 


DYING    OF    THIRST.  '  89 

ually  got  worse,  till  at  last  I  wrapped  myself  in  my 
blankets  an'  fell  asleep  again,  an'  dreamed  ;  dreamed 
of  brooks  an'  streams.  I  could  just  hear  'em  ripplin' 
an'  chirpin'  through  the  medders,  clear  an'  bright.  I 
plunged  my  face  into  the  water  an'  drank,  but  still 
I  was  thirsty.  Or  I  caught  some  in  a  bright  glass  an' 
watched  the  cool  dew  gather  on  the  outside,  but  when 
I  went  to  drink,  no  water  trickled  down  my  parched 
throat,  an'  I  woke  more  distressed  than  ever. 

"  I  had  slept,  it  seemed  to  me,  'bout  five  hours,  for 
I  had  been  worn  out,  body  an'  mind.  No  change  had 
taken  place,  an'  the  cabin  was  as  dark  an'  colder'n 
ever.  Now  I  ain't  a  man  that's  easy  beat ;  I've  been 
up  an'  down  too  off'n  to  be  discouraged,  but  that  awful 
thirst  seemed  to  parch  my  very  soul,  and  my  pluck 
just  withered  up.  I  was  partially  dazed.  I  judged 
I  had  been  in  the  cabin  then  'bout  twenty-four  hours,  as 
my  watch  showed  it  was  a  little  past  one.  I  just  sat 
there  and  let  the  time  slip  slowly  by  ;  I  dared  not  ex 
ercise,  for  the  exertion  increased  my  thirst,  which  was 
already  almost  maddenin',  so  I  wrapped  myself  in  my 
blankets  an'  lay  in  my  bunk.  Then  in  the  darkness 
about  me  I  saw  all  kinds  of  ghostly  things.  Once,, 
standin'  by  my  side  appeared  the  figger  of  a  man  that 
I  recognized  as  Henry  Freeman,  a  miner  who  had 
been  killed  by  my  side  in  a  mine-cave  a  year  before. 
A  moment  later,  hanging  from  the  bend  in  the  stove 
pipe  I  saw  the  body  of  Coal  Oil  Jimmy,  a  desperado 
who  I  saw  hanged  by  the  Vigilantes  in  eighteen  eighty. 
Then,  before  me  danced  rows  of  small  fig^ers,  of  fan 
tastic  shapes ;  now  up,  now  down  they  went,  till  my 
brain  reeled  an'  I  thought  I  was  goin'  mad.  All  this 


90  BUKIED    UNDER   AN    AVALANCHE. 

time  I  felt  I  was  steadily  losin'  strength — starvin'.  I 
hadn't  eaten  anythin'  in  a  great  many  hours  an'  my 
thirst  also  made  me  very  weak.  I  saw  I  could  not 
hold  out  much  longer. 

"  Suddenly  a  new  horror  came  to  me — I  feared  I  was 
in  danger  of  suffocatirr,  for  I  noticed  the  oxygen 
of  th'  air  was  becomin'  exhausted.  The  snow  had 
packed  so  tightly  around  the  cabin  as  to  prevent  the 
air  gettin'  in.  There  seemed  to  be  no  way  to  meet 
this  danger,  an'  the  greatness  of  it  at  first  overcome 
me.  But  by  givin'  the  situation  careful  thought  I  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  if  I  could  reduce  my  breath- 
in's  from  eighteen  to  twelve  a  minute,  I  should  save 
one-third  of  the  air  in  the  room,  or  make  it  go  one- 
third  further.  So  I  tried  to  do  this,  an'  with  some  suc 
cess.  But  all  this  time  my  thirst  was  steadily  increas- 
in',  an'  I  suffered  terrible  torment.  The  agony  was 
dreadful ;  my  tongue  was  swollen  to  great  size  and 
was  cracked  an'  bleedin'.  I  could  not  close  my  teeth 
together;  my  mouth  was  parched  an'  hot;  my  throat 
smarted  an'  burned  so  that  every  breath  sent  a  stingin' 
pain  down  into  my  chest.  The  cold  increased — or  I 
became  more  affected  by  it,  as  1  grew  weaker — an'  in 
spite  of  my  distress  a  powerful  drowsy  f eelin' 
overcome  me.  I  resisted  it  as  well  as  I  could,  dreadin' 
lest  I  should  freeze  to  death,  but  though  I  realized  the 
danger  of  it,  I  fell  asleep,  an'  was  tormented  by  pain 
ful  dreams  of  death  an'  disaster. 

"I  don't  know  how  long  I  slept,  but  I  woke  as  tired 
and  weary  an'  sad  as  before. 

"  The  thirst  of  yesterday  was  now  worse  than  ever. 
I  was  most  crazy  with  it ;  it  was  difficult  to  breathe  ; 


SUFFOCATING.  91 

the  air  was  certainly  losin'  its  oxygen ;  my  head  felt 
light  and  giddy,  while  a  gnawin'  pain  in  my  stomach 
told  me  that  I  was  starvin'.  Still  I  could  have  en 
dured  it  all  but  for  the  thirst,  which  was  awful. 
I  could  think  of  nothin'  but  water,  and  the  knowledge 
that  within  a  few  feet  of  me  lay  ice  an'  snow  in  vast 
quantities,  only  served  to  make  it  worse.  I  could  not 
sit  still !  I  could  not  think !  I  raged  up  an'  down 
the  cabin  ;  I  pounded  on  the  door ;  I  dashed  my  weight 
against  it,  but  it  was  firm  and  hardly  rattled.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  it,  I  was  a  prisoner,  and  \*  ould 
soon  be  a  madman  or  dead  unless  help  came.  My  ex 
ertion,  in  consequence  of  the  bad  air  and  my  weakness, 
soon  exhausted  me  and  I  sat  down  to  rest.  But  I 
couldn't  rest !  My  tongue,  enormously  swollen,  al 
most  stopped  my  breathin',  an'  I  feared  I  was  slowly 
suffocatin'  in  that  way.  I  began,  at  last,  to  realize  that 
I  was  goin'  to  die,  for  my  neighbors  must  all  be  dead 
to  have  left  me  buried  so  long.  Perhaps  Bill  was 
also  lost. 

"  As  I  sat  there  in  the  darkness  I  heard  a  sound, 
the  first  not  made  by  myself  in  the  three  days  I  had  been 
in  the  cabin.  It  was  somethin'  diggin'  in  the  snow. 
At  first  I  could  not  make  out  what  it  was,  but  I  be 
lieved  it  was  some  wild  animal,  a  wolf  or  coyote,  that 
had  discovered  the  existence  of  the  cabin.  But  in  a 
few -minutes  I  heard  voices  murmurin'  indistinctly; 
— then  talkin'  and  laughin' — they  were  very  near. 
The  men  approached  very  rapidly;  I  tried  to  shout,  bat 
my  throat  refused  to  give  forth  more  than  a  hoarse 
croak.  More  laughter  !  The  rescuers  were  close  at 
hand.  How  could  they  laugh  at  such  a  time,  not 


92  BUEIED    UNDER    AN    AVALANCHE. 

knowin'  but  I  was  dead  !  Nearer  an'  nearer  they  come, 
till  at  last,  after  what  seemed  hours  of  waitin',  they 
reached  the  door  an'  bust  it  open  with  a  crash.  With 
the  inrush  of  the  cold  air  an'  dazzlin'  light  I  fainted. 
When  I  come  to,  Bill — my  pardner — was  standin* 
over  me,  smilin',  and  near  him  was  two  of  the  boys 
from  the  other  camp.  Bill  looked  at  me  steadily  for 
a  minute,  and  then  he  says  : 

"  '  You  must  have  been  pretty  bilin'  lately,  Judge, 
'cord in'  to  the  looks  of  this  cabin.' 

"  '  Water  ! '  "  was  all  I  could  say. 

"  ;  Aha  !  " '  says  Bill.  "  i  I  knowed  I  was  right.  But 
sody  is  better  ;  Chimmy,  just  ring  the  bell  and  tell 
Caesar  to  fetch  some  B.  and  S.  I  feel  a  little  that 
way  myself.' 

"  His  jokin'  was  quite  lost  on  me,  and  weak  as  I  was 
I  rushed  to  the  door  and  greedily  swallowed  a  hand- 
full  of  snow.  Bill  looked  at  me  sadly.  '  Judge,'  he 
says,  '  You'd  better  reform.  It'll  be  a  case  of  snakes 
before  you  know  it.' 

" 4  What  day's  this  ?'"  I  asked,  still  confused,  for 
now  that  my  thirst  was  temp'rarily  relieved  I  felt  the 
effects  of  my  fast.  " '  It's  two  P.  M.  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  23rd  day  of  January,  Anni  Domino,  1881,'  "  says 
Bill ;  " '  and  accordin'  to  the  alminick  the  moon  was 
full  same  time  you  was,  an'  that's  last  night.' 

"  It  was  just  so.  I  had  been  locked  up  in  that  cabin 
from  twelve  o'clock  one  night  until  two  the  next  day, 
and  that  was  all.  There  was  no  avalanche,  nor  snow 
slide ;  there  had  been  plenty  of  air  ;  the  door  was  not 
fastened  at  all,  and  could  have  been  opened  easy  if 


93 

I  hadn't  tried  to  push  it  out  when  it  actually 
swung  in." 

The  Judge  paused,  carefully  shifted  his  long  legs, 
and  looked  benignantly  upon  us. 

"Well,  but  look  ahere,"  cried  the  Colonel,  in  great 
excitement,  "  why  didn't  you  try  it  both  ways  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Judge  slowly,  "  that's  the  very 
question  the  boys  asked  me." 

"  Well  then,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  you  were  a 
perfect  blamed  fool,"  the  Colonel  continued,  in  a  dis 
gusted  tone ;  "  a  reg'lar  cussed  tenderfoot,  by  Jove  !" 

The  Judge  smiled  sweetly.  "The  very  identical 
expression  that  Bill  used,"  was  all  he  said. 


VII.  THE  WEDDING  AT  PUERTA  DA  LUNA. 

The  sun  shone  down  upon  Puerta  da  Luna*  with  a 
yellow  glare  that  was  blinding  in  its  intensity.  The 
red  dust,  through  which  an  occasional  horse  or  mule 
kicked  a  cloudy  way,  rose  sluggishly  from  the  earth, 
then  slowly  settled  back,  hot  and  scorching,  upon  the 
traveler.  The  air  was  baking,  and  it  quivered  and 
shrivelled  in  a  way  that  made  one  fairly  gasp. 

Down  below  the  town  flowed  Rio  Pecos — lazy  and 
dirty — its  alkaline  waters  seeming,  in  the  fiery  sun 
light,  to  boil,  as  they  flowed  with  languid  difficulty 
around  the  sand  bars  that  blocked  them  in.  The 
plaza  of  the  town — for  every  Mexican  town  is  built 
upon  a  plaza — was  a  grand  affair,  being  bounded  on 
one  side  by  the  town  itself,  and  on  the  other  three 
by  the  horizon.  The  founder  of  Puerta  da  Luna  was 
a  man  of  large  ideas,  and  he  intended  that  the  town 
should  have  room  to  grow.  It  certainly  had  all  the 
advantages  in  this  respect  that  ever  a  town  had,  f9r 
there  was  nothing  for  hundreds  of  miles  to  stop  its  ex 
tending  in  three  directions.  Yet  there  it  stood,  at  the 
advanced  age  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  a  sad 

*Lippincott's  Gazetteer  spells  this  Puerto  de  Luna,  but  Governor 
Walker  himself  insisted  that  it  should  be  Puerta  da  Luna,  and  so  that 
spelling  has  been  retained  here. 

(94) 


HIGH    NOON.  95 

monument  of  neglected  opportunities.  It  is  doubt 
ful  if  it  had  increased  in  size  by  a  single  house  in  the 
last  century.  Indolence  was  the  only  industry  there  ; 
a  liking  for  work  would  have  made  a  man's  sanity 
questionable.  The  white  men,  who  from  time  to  time 
had  gone  to  Puerta  da  Luna,  at  first  carried  with  them  a 
breezy  air  of  bustle  and  enterprise,  and  each  avowed 
his  intention  of  "  waking  things  up,  sir !  "  But  their 
energy  and  ambition  were  soon  burnt  out  of  them 
by  the  hot  suns  of  the  desert,  and  the  sleepy  influences 
of  the  place  overcame  them. 

Close  by  the  town  rises  the  bluff  of  a  mesa,  and 
from  there  we  can  look  down  upon  Puerta  da  Luna 
actually,  as  we  do  figuratively  at  all  times.  Below 
us,  on  our  left,  we  see  the  cacti  and  ocatillas  crisping 
in  the  heat,  and  the  white  face  of  the  land  glowing  in 
the  fierce  noon  sun.  We  see  the  red  clay  roofs  of  the 
town  itself,  and  our  eye  is  caught  by  its  one  frame 
building,  the  Dew  Drop  Palace  of  Pleasure,  that 
lifts  its  warped  and  splintered  walls  to  the  extraor 
dinary  height  of  two  stories.  Near  at  hand  is  the 
little  adobe  church,  older  than  the  town  itself,  that 
holds  within  its  walls  that  precious  relic,  the  holy 
image  of  Santa  Blasa,  to  whose  shrine  often  come 
barren  women,  who  kneeling  and  praying,  return 
thence  to  their  homes,  and  are  made  happy  within 
the  year. 

Beyond  the  town  we  see  the  river  again,  and  the 
quivering  heat  that  rises  from  its  sand  bars  is  as 
visible  as  a  fog.  Everything  else  is  yellow  or 
red,  and  the  baking  earth  is  quite  unmasked  by  the 
green  of  vegetation,  save  for  the  cactus  or  sage,  things 


yb  THE    WEDDING    AT    PTJERTA    DA    LUNA. 

that  are  but  the  mockery  of  living,  growing  plants.  One 
can  almost  believe  he  has  left  the  abode  of  earthly 
dwellers  and  has  been  transported  to  another  planet, 
because  of  the  strangeness  of  everything  about  him. 
Or  else  he  can  fancy,  on  some  cruel  hot  day,  that  he  is 
seeing  the  death  of  the  earth.  The  wither  and  blight 
of  the  desert,  the  decay  of  old  age  are  everywhere. 
Even  the  children  seem  to  be  centuries  old,  their 
parched,  sun-burnt  little  bodies  making  them  look 
like  animated  mummies. 

During  the  day  one  seldom  sees  a  moving  thing  ex 
posed  in  the  heat.  But  as  the  light  wanes  and  the  sun 
drops  behind  the  mesas  in  the  west,  the  town  slowly 
awakens.  The  air  is  still  hot,  but  not  with  the  dry 
and  scorching  heat  of  noon-time;  the  sands  still  glow 
with  the  stored-up  caloric,  accumulated  during  the 
day,  but  the  night-wind  that  follows  the  sun  reaches 
the  town  as  the  daylight  fades,  and  then,  of  a  sudden 
it  is  cool.  Slowly  the  people  rouse  themselves  from 
their  lethargy.  The  doorsteps  and  narrow  piazzas  that 
abut  upon  the  plaza  become  populous  with  life,  and 
the  sounds  of  guitars  and  castanets  are  heard,  playing 
an  accompaniment  to  some  melodious  soprano,  singing 
a  long-remembered  song  of  Castile  or  Andalusia  :  a 
song  brought  here,  may  be,  by  some  singer  in  Cortes's 
band,  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 

A  curious  state  of  affairs  exists  in  Fuerta  da  Luna, 
as  in  many  other  New  Mexican  towns.  There  are  two 
races  there,  the  Mexican  or  Hispanio- American,  and 
the  White  or  American,  as  they  are  called,  and  these 
two  races  do  not  commingle  readily.  It  being  a 
frontier  town,  many  of  the  riff-raff  of  the  country 


WALKEK.  97 

have  drifted  there,  and  have  earned  by  their  lawless 
ness  a  bad  name  for  the  place.  Not  even  the  exhaust 
ing,  enervating  climate  has  entirely  subdued  the  vi 
tality  of  this  element,  and  it  now  and  then  breaks  out 
in  some  mad  feat  of  blood. 

Twenty  years  ago  old  "  Guv'nor  "  Walker  came  to 
Puerta  da  Luna,  determined  to  make  a  success  of  his 
life.  At  that  time  he  possessed  brains,  pluck  and  a 
little  money,  which  he  had  saved  from  the  wreck  the 
war  had  made  of  his  fortune,  for  the  "  Guv'nor  "  had 
been  on  the  side  of  the  south.  And  what  had  he 
actually  done  for  himself  ?  Nothing  !  The  fatal  in 
fluences  of  the  place  had  grown  about  him  and  he  was 
ainbitionless.  Yet  in  spite  of  his  loss  of  energy,  the 
old  man  still  carried  himself  with  courtly  dignity. 
Twenty  years,  in  Puerta  da  Luna  had  not  entirely 
worn  away  the  polish  of  his  Kentucky  breeding.  The 
Governor  was  tall  in  figure  and  stately  in  manner  yet, 
and  though  he  dressed  shabbily,  you  would  never  think 
it  was  less  than  broadcloth  and  linen  he  wore.  He  was 
fond  of  reminiscence  also,  and  wielded  much  influ 
ence  in  the  hamlet.  The  Governor  was  looked  up  to 
by  all,  and  where  fair  dealing  and  honest  arbitration 
was  desired  he  was  appealed  to,  though  it  was  seldom 
that  any  other  arbitrator  than  the  six-shooter  was 
needed. 

The  Dew  Drop  was  his  property,  as  was  also  the  ad 
joining  small  store,  where  might  be  purchased  many 
things,  such  as  tobacco,calico,  bacon,  flour,  cheap  saddles 
and  baking-powder.  Nothing  ever  gave  the  Governor 
more  pleasure  than  to  collect  about  him  in  the  Dew 
Drop  half  a  dozen  companions  who  would  listen  to  his 


98        THE  WEDDING  AT  PUERTA  DA  LUNA. 

stories  of  by-gone  days.  It  used  to  be  whispered  in 
Puerta  da  Luna  that  during  the  war  the  Governor  had 
been  guilty  of  some  tremendous,  unmentionable  act 
of  treason  against  the  United  States,  and  that  he 
was  waiting  for  it  to  blow  over  before  returning  to 
Kentucky.  One  would  think  that  in  twenty  years  it 
had  had  time  to  be  forgotten,  yet  still  he  lingered.  "  I 
was  thinkin'  of  going  back  this  summer,"  he  would 
say,  as  regularly  as  the  spring  came  around,  "  but  I 
reckon  I'll  wait  now  till  fall.  Don't  quite  see  how  I 
kin  leave  my  bizriess." 

Seated  with  his  hearers  about  him,  the  Governor 
would  warm  to  his  work.  "  Forty  de  Luny  was  not 
what  it  used  to  be,"  he  would  protest,  with  a  sorrow 
ful  shake  of  the  head,  as  if  "  Forty  de  Luny  "  had  ever 
been  anything  different  since  the  Christian  era  began. 
"  It  was  gettin'  too  near  the  settlers  ;  it  wouldn't  be 
long  before  there'd  be  a  railroad  runnin'  slap  in  front 
of  the  Dew  Drop,  and  where  would  old  Guv'nor 
Walker  be  then  ?  Dead,  sah  !  that's  th'  idea — dead  of 
a  broken  heart."  Here  the  old  fellow's  feelings  al 
ways  mastered  him,  and  he  found  it  necessary  to 
stimulate. 

"  When  I  fust  come  here,"  he  would  say,  "  we  used 
to  hev  great  times.  It  was  at  the  close  of  the  wah, 
sah,  and  there  was  a  lively  scatterin'  of  the  boys  for 
certain  reasons.  Old  Forty  was  very  gay  in  those 
days ;  too  gay  almost,  for  we  was  obliged  to  get  up  a 
little  company  of  vigilantes,  in  order  to  s6rt  of  steady 
things.  There  used  to  be  some  tol'able  quick  shootin' 
for  all  that.  I  'member  once  a  chap  named  Bill 
Thomas  let  off  his  six-shooter  into  a  crowd  and  killed 


GOOD    OLD    TIMES.  99 

three  Greasers.  We  had  to  tie  him  up,  on  account  of 
pop'lar  opinion,  though  it  didn't  seem  hardly  fair, 
they  bein'  only  Mexikins.  You  see,  Bill  was  after  a 
feller  he  had  a  right  to  kill  on  sight,  and  these  Grea 
sers  sort  o'  got  plum  in  line,  so,  not  bein'  able  to  shoot 
round,  he  tried  goin'  through  'em,  killin'  'em  by  the 
way,  as  it  were,  incidentally,  and  I  always  said  it  was- 
a  mistake  to  hang  him. 

"  There  is  a  couple  of  holes  here,"  he  would  add,, 
with  a  small  laugh,  pointing  to  the  wooden  bar,  "  that 
has  a  story.  It  was  before  I  was  proprietor,  bein'  only 
tendin'  bar,  when  one  day,  while  the  usual  game  wa& 
goin'  on,  a  little  feller,  Manuel  Manzanares,  waltzes  in 
and  sallies  up  to  the  bar  an'  calls  for  some  whiskey. 
Well,  it  just  filled  him  up  to  the  edge,  and  he  whipped 
out  his  gun  an'  sayin'  he  hadn't  got  any  money,  cov 
ered  me  an'  backed  fur  the  door.  I  dodged  behind 
the  bar,  whipped  out  my  pistol  and  cal'lated  to  git  pay 
that  way.  Well,  I  caught  him,  caught  him  twice  in 
fact,  an'  could  have  caught  him  three  times  if  it  had 
been  necessary,  but  it  warnt.  An'  the  cur'us  thing 
about  it  all  was  that  there  was  two  other  men  hit 
same  time,  an'  it  was  claimed  I  did  it,  though  I  only 
pulled  twice,  an'  both  those  leads  was  found  in 
Manuel.  Well,  it  became  convenient  for  me  to  go 
to  Yegas  just  about  then,  and  i  must've  stayed  away 
several  months.  Cur'us,  ain't  it,  to  think  of  a  man's- 
havin'  to  leave  Forty  for  such  a  thing  as  that  ?  We 
were  mighty  strict  in  those  days,  sah  ;  most  too  strict." 

But  it  was  with  the  ladies  the  Governor  was  most 
popular.  There  was  always  about  him  an  air  of  re 
spectful  homage  and  attention,  no  matter  who  the 


100  THE    WEDDIXG    AT    PUERTA    DA    LUNA. 

woman  was,  that  at  once  won  her  regard.  As  he 
strolled  across  the  plaza  he  was  constantly  bowing  his 
.salutations  to  one  or  another  senora,  and  his  sombrero 
was  being  beaten  isochronally  with  his  stately  gestures. 
There  wasn't  a  house  within  fifty  miles  of  Puerta  da 
Luna  at  which  the  white  haired  old  "Guv'nor"was 
not  welcome,  and  though  the  envied  of  all  men  for 
his  taking  qualities  with  the  sex,  no  one  ever  ques- 
tiened  his  right  to  their  favor. 

Great  things  were  to  happen  in  Puerta  da  Luna 
this  night,  when  the  bright  moon,  hanging  high  in  the 
lunar  pathway,  shone  through  her  "gates"  upon  the 
sands  of  the  desert.  The  moon  was  half  full,  and  she 
offered  herself  as  a  noble  example  of  temperance  and 
moderation  to  the  roisterers  on  earth  ;  an  example  alas, 
neither  understood  nor  followed,  for  Puerta  da  Luna 
was  undeniably — drunk. 

The  occasion  of  this  unusual  hilarity  was  the  cele 
bration  of  the  marriage  of  PI  acid  e  Baca  y  Baca,  eldest 
son  and  heir  of  Don  Selso  Baca,  the  wealthiest  and 
best  known  ranchero  in  San  Miguel  County.  The 
title  to  thousands  of  acres  of  dry,  red  land  was 
vested  in  Don  Selso,  it  having  descended  to  him  from 
his  father,  who  in  turn  had  received  it  from  his  father, 
.and  so  on  back,  until  you  could  trace  the  title  straight 
to  the  great  land  grant,  given  in  the  year  1723  to  Don 
Ferdigo  Baca  by  the  Spanish  King.  Besides  the  land 
he  owned,  hundreds  of  cattle  bore  Don  Selso's  brand 
and  thousands  of  sheep  were  watched  by  his  herders. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Pecos  stood  his  house,  and  near 
it  was  his  orchard  and  vineyard — a  few  acres  wrested 
from  the  drought  and  made  fertile  by  the  alkaline 


PLACIDE   AND    MARIA    DOLORES.  101 

waters  of  the  river,  which  had  been  led  thither  through 
rude  canals.  Here  grew  fine  fruit ;  peaches,  pears, 
apricots,  plums ;  melons  too  of  such  tremendous  girth 
that  I  dare  not  give  their  dimensions.  In  the 
vineyard  grapes  could  be  plucked,  the  bunches 
rivaling  in  size  and  flavor  the  celebrated  samples 
brought  back  by  the  original  investigating  committee 
from  the  land  of  Canaan.  From  these  grapes  wine 
had  been  made,  and  this,  the  wine  of  Baca,  was 
expected  to  add  to  the  innocent  hilarity  of  this 
joyful  occasion. 

Placide — son  of  Don  Selso  Baca— had  that  after 
noon  led  to  the  altar  in  the  little  church,  the  blushing 
daughter  of  Don  Anton  Chico— herself  called  Maria 
Dolores.  In  front  of  that  altar  they  had  knelt  and 
clasped  hands,  while  the  swarthy  little  priest  had  mum 
bled  and  stumbled  through  his  unfamiliar  mass,  and 
at  length  they  had  walked  out,  they  who  had  entered 
as  two,  forever  bound  together  as  one.  And  by  this 
marriage  were  united  the  houses  of  Baca  and  Chico  ; 
the  rights  and  titles  to  the  two  estates  were  joined, 
and  there  was  great  rejoicing. 

Invitations  had  been  sent  out  for  miles  around,  bid 
ding  the  ranchmen  come  and  be  merry,  and  an  hour 
after  sunset  the  town  was  alive  with  swaggering  cow 
boys,  dressed  in  their  best ;  all  wearing  broad  som 
breros,  fancifully  colored  shirts,  bright  flowing  neck 
ties,  curious  little  high  heeled-boots,  into  which  were 
tucked  their  trousers,  and  huge,  jingling  spurs,  buckled 
over  their  in  steps. 

The  two  Dons  had  united  to  celebrate  the  notable- 
event  becomingly.  They  had  secured  the  large  room 


102      THE  WEDDING  AT  PUEKTA  DA  LUXA. 

over  the  Dew  Drop  for  an  "  Assembly  Room,"  and 
had  craftily  appointed  Governor  Walker  Master  of 
Ceremonies.  The  bar  of  the  Dew  Drop  was  thrown 
open  to  all  comers,  and  long  before  the  hour  for  the 
Ball  had  arrived,  Free  Whiskey  and  the  fiery  Mescal 
had  made  themselves  felt.  Now  and  then,  some  in 
toxicated  reveler  might  be  seen  in  the  shimmer  of  the 
moonlight  on  the  plaza,  arguing  with  his  unstable 
shadow,  and  as  he  swung  his  arms,  to  emphasize  with 
gestures  his  flowery,  albeit  disjointed  sentences,  the 
earth  would  slip  from  under  him  and  he  would  fall 
limp  in  the  dust.  A  companion,  himself  apostrophiz 
ing  the  night,  wandering  spirally  by,  and  seeing  the 
prostrate  form,  would  pause  in  pity,  when  from  under 
him  the  world  would  whirl,  and  he  too  would  repose 
in  drunken  dustiness.  Then  a  merry  laugh  from  some 
dusky  senorita  would  set  vibrating  the  clear  night  air, 
as  the  two  roisterers  would  attempt  to  rise,  then  fall, 
stagger  and  fall  again,  singing  swanlike  as  they  sank 
to  the  unsteady  ground.  Fainter  would  grow  their 
voices  and  fainter,  diminuendo — last  and  lost  effort, 
prostrate  would  they  lie,  drunk— dusty— happy. 

The  upper  room  of  the  Dew  Drop  was,  this  night, 
devoted  to  Terpsichore,  and  presented  a  truly  attractive 
appearance.  Around  the  rough,  unceiled  interior  were 
hung  flags,  in  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  conceal  the 
bareness  of  the  walls,  while  from  the  naked  rafters 
overhead  were  suspended  two  flimsy  chandeliers,  hold 
ing  kerosene  lamps  which  shed  a  smoky,  dingy  light 
about.  Through  the  cracks  in  the  warped  and  creaking 
floor  came  the  heat,  the  smoke,  the  odors  and  the  pro 
fanity  of  the  bar-room  below.  The  atmosphere  in 


THE    BALL    ROOM.  103 

the  Ball  room  was  like  that  of  an  oven,  arid  the  four 
narrow  windows  served  to  ventilate  it  but  poorly. 

In  a  frontier  town  like  Puerta  da  Luna,  society  is 
not  defined  and  hedged  about  as  it  is  where  what  is 
called  civilization  has  made  more  progress.  Still  it 
has  its  limitations  even  there.  Not  every  one  was 
bidden  to  the  Ball  that  night,  and  a  resolute,  active 
young  fellow,  with  a  significant  six-shooter  hanging 
at  his  right  hip,  stood  by  the  door  as  the  guests 
passed  in,  and  closely  scanned  each  face.  Not  every 
one  was  admitted,  but  nearly  every  one,  and  by  ten 
o'clock  the  scene  was  one  of  entrancing  beauty.  It  was 
eloquently  described  by  the  Governor,  as  he  stood  in 
the  doorway,  as  being — "  bewitchin' — 'pon  me  soul, 
—hie !" 

Seated  on  the  benches  about  the  room  were  the 
ladies,  becomingly  dressed  in  white.  They  were  of 
various  nationalities,  from  the  light-haired,  fair-corn- 
plexioned  dame  of  Saxon  descent,  to  the  dusky  belle, 
whose  shining  black  hair  and  dark  skin  be 
trayed  the  mixture  of  Spanish  and  Indian  blood. 
They  were  of  all  ages,  for  no  maiden  was  without 
her  chaperon.  They  are  very  particular  about  this 
little  point  in  Puerta  da  Luna,  though  the v fact  that 
the  ball  was  to  be  given  over  a  bar-room  was  accepted 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Besides,  where  else  could  it  be 
given  ? 

Lounging  about  the  door,  in  awkward,  uneasy  atti 
tudes  were  the  men ;  brave  enough,  all  of  them,  yet 
none  daring  now.  Every  one  felt  ill  at  ease  ;  the  Ball 
seemed  to  be  a  funeral.  But  on  the  appearance  of  the 
wavering  Governor,  a  change  took  place.  He  wan- 


104:  THE    WEDDING    AT    PUEETA    DA    LUNA. 

dered  across  the  room,  vainly  endeavoring  to  follow 
undeviatingly  a  crack  in  the  floor,  through  which 
arose  the  vapors  from  beneath.  Cautiously  he  ap 
proached  the  band — a  fiddle,  guitar  and  accordeon. 
Arriving  at  the  side  of  the  fiddler  he  laid  his  hand  in  a 
free  and  easy  manner  on  his  shoulder  and  with  this 
support,  endeavored  to  lean  over  and  whisper  confiden 
tially  in  his  ear.  But  he  miscalculated,  either  as  to 
the  strength  of  his  prop,  or  his  own  stability,  for  he 
lost  his  balance,  and  making  a  clutch  in  the  air  was 
only  saved  from  disaster  by  the  accordion.  Then, 
realizing  that  he  was  not  in  proper  condition  to 
deliver  the  speech  with  which  he  had  intended  to  open 
the  ball,  with  a  delicate  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things,  he  removed  his  sombrero  and  swinging  it  about 
his  head  shouted  lustily,  "  Hurrah!  "  and  the  festivi 
ties  began.  With  the  first  note  of  the  music,  a  cow 
boy,  inspired  by  the  wine  of  Baca,  dashed  with  a  wild 
"  Whoop  !  "  toward  the  row  of  ladies,  and  seizing  one  at 
random,  rattled  away  in  a  mad,  jingling  waltz.  Then 
others  followed,  encouraged  by  his  example,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  floor  was  covered  with  dancing 
couples.  Round  and  round  they  went ;  the  warped 
boards  creaking,  the  glass  of  the  lamps  rattling,and  the 
men  whispering  soft  curses  to  themselves  as  they  col 
lided  with  one  another.  The  Governor  did  not  dance, 
but  stood  by  the  door,  leaning  heavily  against  the 
wall,  his  sombrero  tipped  over  his  eyes  and  a  benevo 
lent  smile  on  his  lips,  as  he  beat  unsteady  time  to  the 
music  with  his  forefinger. 

While  the  ball  was  at  its  height  there  appeared  in 
the  low,  narrow  doorway  at  the  head   of   the   ladder- 


THE    LITTLE    OLD    MAN.  105 

like  stair,  the  figure  of  a  stranger.  A  little  old  man, 
bow-legged,  with  arms  of  unnatural  length,  and  clad 
in  faded  blue-jeans.  His  small  face  was  wizened 
and  parched ;  no  trace  of  a  beard  was  visible  on  his 
sunken  cheeks,  and  his  small  eyes,  set  unpleasantly 
close  together  and  unframed  by  eyebrows,  glanced 
restlessly  about.  Bob  Lynch  and  Rube  Friday  were 
standing  near  the  door  as  the  stranger  appeared,  and 
as  he  hesitated  about  entering,  Rube,  in  that  easy  bonne 
camaraderie  manner  that  became  his  style  so  well, 
stepped  up  to  him  and  hitting  him  a  substantial  blow 
on  the  back,  that  seemed  to  shrivel  him  up,  until 
small  as  he  had  been  before,  he  appeared  even  smaller 
then,  said  : 

"  Hello !  Major !  Glad  to  see  ye.  Lookin'  fur  a 
chance  to  jingle  yer  spurs,  hey  ?  " 

"JSTo  sir,"  said  the  stranger  slowly,  "I'm  lookin' 
fur  my  little  boy.  You  aint  seen  him,  now,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Seen  him  !  "  said  Rube,  winking  facetiously  to 
the  others  who  stood  near.  "  Oh  yes  !  I've  seen  him. 
Little  feller,  pinafore,  pink  curls,  'bout  so  high  an' 
answers  to  the  name  o'  Bub." 

"Y-e-s,"  said  the  stranger  doubtfully,  "  I  guess  that's 
him.  Where  is  he  ?  Hev  you  seen  him  lately  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  I  hed  !  Less  see "  here 

Rube  assumed  an  air  of  deep  abstraction,  occasionally 
varied  by  heat-lightning  movements  of  his  left  eyelid, 
of  so  humorous  a  nature  as  to  send  everyone  of  the 
bystanders  into  ill-repressed  spasms  of  laughter. 

"  Less  see  ;  where  was  it  I  see  Bub  last?   Just  you 

wait  1  I  got  a  powerful  mem'ry  fur  furgettin'  things." 
G 


106  THE    WEDDING    AT    TUEKTA    DA    LUNA. 

Here  Rube  pressed  the  back  of  his  hand  against 
his  forehead  and  assumed  an  air  of  meditation. 

"  Where — wuz — it — I  seen  Bub — last  ?  He  was  a 
well  mannered  chap,  wasn't  he?  Had  fust  rate 
comp'ny  manners— sort  o'  swallered  the  juice  when 
talkin'  to  ladies,  so  to  speak  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  said  the  old  man  eagerly  ;  "  where 
did  you  say  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"  Tryin'  to  recollec'.  There  wuz  a  feller  like  that 
had  some  trouble  up  to  the  X  Bar  X  ranch  a  year  or 
so  ago,  and  never  quite  recovered  from  it.  Got  ketched 
into  a  lariat  someways  an'  it  affected  his  breathin'  per 
manently.  Made  a  mistake  about  the  brand  on  some 
hosses  through  bein'  short  sighted.  At  least  that's 
the  way  it  come  to  me." 

"It  wasn't  Willie,  I  know,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  ISTo,  I  reckon  not,  myself.     Then  there  wuz  a  fel 
ler  down  to  the  Half -circle-diamond  place,  down  near 
the  Laberde  grant,   that  got  into  a  misunderstandin' ' 
with  the  boss  an'  hed  to  pull  his  freight  to  save  his 
head.     Thet  couldn't  hev  been  Bub  now,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  old  man,  "that  couldn't've  been 
Willie.  He  left  home  four  year  ago,  an'  I  aint 
heard  'bout  him  but  onct,  an'  then  they  told  me  they'd 
seen  him  out  near  Forty  de  Luny,  an'  so  I  come  look- 
in'  for  him.  I'm  from  Missouri,  myself." 

"Well,"  said  Eube,  generously,  "  You  keep  right 
on  as  long  as  you  feel,  like  it.  Lord  !  I  guess  this  is 
a  free  country,  an'  a  man  can  look  fur  the  devil  if  he 
wants  to." 

The  others  acknowledged  the  humor  of  this  remark 
by  a  quavering  laugh,  and  dispersed. 


THE    WINE    OF    BACA.  107 

•  The  dancing  went  merrily  on.  Too  merrily  most  of 
the  ladies  soon  thought,  and  in  a  little  while  they  took 
their  departure,  escorted  to  their  domiciles  by  their 
attendants  and  chaperons.  Then,  such  was  the  effect 
of  the  wine  of  Baca  and  the  fiery  Mescal,  that  the 
scene  in  the  Assembly  room  became  something  in 
describable.  The  slim  walls  rocked  with  the  blows 
of  heavy  feet  that  fell  upon  the  flimsy  floor ;  the 
rafters  shook  and  the  lamps  burned  dim.  Up  through 
the  splintered  boards  still  came  the  smoke, 
the  heat,  and  the  odors  from  the  Dew  Drop  bar 
beneath.  The  noise  slowly  grew  fainter  below,  as  one 
by  one  the  celebrants,  overcome  by  the  fiery  potions, 
sank  helplessly  down  to  the  floor  and  slumbered  in 
their  awkward  positions.  One  by  one  they  fell,  until 
not  a  soul  sat  upright  to  maintain  the  power  of  mind 
over  spirits.  Most  proud  would  the  two  Dons  have 
been  could  they  then  have  seen  how  faithfully  their 
friends  were  rejoicing  with  them.  Proud  also  would 
have  been  the  young  Placide  and  his  blushing  Maria 
Dolores,  could  they  have  seen  the  Dew  Drop  then. 

Up  stairs  but  four  still  kept  their  feet;  the  rest 
snored  noisily.  Off  in  obscure  meekness,  in  one  corner, 
sat  the  little  old  man,  his  small  eyes  closed  to  the 
smoke  and  shadows ;  for  he  too  slept.  Out  on  the 
floor  were  four  booted  and  spurred  raneheros,  hard- 
headed  and  well-balanced,  who  showed  but  little  the 
worse  for  their  merriment.  They  were  tripping  a  jig 
to  a  fantastic  measure,  and  the  music  was  making  des 
perate,  though  ineffectual  efforts  to  keep  up  with  them. 
Away  they  went,  their  heels  rattling  noisily  and  their 
spurs  tinkling  merrily.  While  they  were  thus  occupied  a 


108      THE  WEDDING  AT  PUERTA  DA  LUNA. 

second  stranger  appeared  in  the  doorway.  The  dancer& 
were  too  busy  to  notice  him,  and  so  failed  to  perceive 
the  two  pistols  he  carried,  one  in  each  hand.  He  wa& 
appearantly  not  over  twenty  years  old,  smooth-faced, 
short  and  thick-set.  He  was  dressed  in  the  garb  of 
the  country  ;  his  light  grey  eyes  glistened  in  the 
smoky  light,  and  his  thin,  compressed  lips  showed 
he  was  what  Rube  called  a  "  nervy  little  cuss."  For  a 
moment  he  surveyed  the  scene  from  the  door,  then  ad 
vancing  towards  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  halting  be 
fore  the  dancers,  said  quietly : 

"  Reckon  you'd  better  throw  up  your  hands,  gents.n 

The  dancers  stopped  instantly;  they  were  sober 
enough  to  know  what  the  outcome  would  be  if  they 
resisted.  Besides,  in  compliance  with  a  request  of 
Don  Selso's,  they  had  left  their  pistols  at  the  bar,  and 
so  were  unarmed  and  helpless.  They  quietly  held  up 
their  hands  and  stood  there  in  a  row. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you  gents,"  continued  the 
stranger,  apologetically  ;  "  specially  as  we're  unac 
quainted,  an'  I  hope  you  wont  think  me  rude.  If  the 
fellers  down  stairs  had  panned  out  anythin'  like,  I'd 
never  hev  come  near  ye,  fur  I  know  ez  well  ez  anyone 
there's  a  time  fur  work  an'  a  time  fur  play.  But  I 
never  see  just  such  a  pauper  outfit  as  they  was ;  I  aint 
made  enough  to  buy  a  drink,  an'  so,  if  you'll  ex-euse 
me,  I  shall  hev  to  ax  you  to  be  so  kind." 

When  the  stranger  had  accepted  the  various  offer 
ings  thus  forced  upon  him,  he  found  himself  in  pos 
session  of  nearly  two  hundred  dollars,  and  three  gold 
watches. 


MUKPEK.  109 

"  Really  gents,  "  he  said,  with  a  polite  little  bow, 
"  you're  men  after  me  own  heart.  You  are  rich, 
well-mannered,  an'  open-handed.  You'll  be  pleased 
to  know  that  this  little  contribution  of  yours  will  be 
used  to  endow  an  orphan  asylum  —  an'  the  little 
orphans  will  pray  for  you  every  night,  which  will  be 
be  very  gratifying  I'm  sure."  The  four  victims 
were  silent,  Rube  Friday  alone  showing  by  a 
grimace  his  vexation  of  spirit.  "  Perhaps,  now 
we've  been  so  intimate  and  friendly,  you'd  like  to 
know  my  name,"  the  stranger  continued.  "  I'm 
pop'larly  known  as  Billy  the  Kid.  See  here!"  He 
raised  his  right  hand  arid  with  his  pistol  snuffed  out 
one  of  the  remaining  lights.  He  still  kept  his  victims 
in  control  by  holding  the  other  pistol  in  his  left  hand, 
pointed  straight  at  them. 

The  old  man,  who  had  been  dozing  in  the  dark  cor 
ner  all  this  time,  was  awakened  by  the  shot,  and 
catching  sight  of  the  stranger  as  he  stood  fronting  the 
four  men,  ran  wildly  toward  him,  shouting  :  "  Willie  ! 
Willie  !  "  All  were  startled,  none  more  than  the  rob 
ber,  at  seeing  this  strange  figure  in  the  obscure  light. 
He  hesitated  an  instant,  but  with  four  resolute, 
angry  men  behind  him  he  dared  not  pause,  a  delay 
might  be  fatal;  besides,  in  the  dim,  smoky  room, 
he  did  not  recognize  the  stranger.  With  a  light 
ning  gesture,  he  raised  his  pistol  and  the  old 
man  fell  to  the  floor — dead.  Quick  as  a  flash — for 
it  was  all  over  in  a  second — he  faced  the  four  again, 
and  covering  thehi  with  a  revolver  in  each  hand, 
backed  to  the  door,  and  bowing  there,  said  :  "Good 
night,  gents ; "  then  with  a  third  shot  he  extinguished 


110       THE  WEDDING  AT  PUERTA  DA  LUNA. 

the  last  light,  and  the  room  was  in  darkness.  A 
moment  later  the  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  was- 
heard  as  he  rode  off. 

It  took  but  a  very  little  time  for  the  four  men  to 
reach  the  open  air  in  pursuit.  As  they  ran  through 
the  bar-room  they  reached  behind  the  bar  and  took 
from  the  rack,  rifles  and  revolvers.  In  front  of  the 
saloon,  tied  to  a  low  railing,  were  some  thirty  horses, 
all  saddled  and  bridled,  and  on  four  of  these  the 
men  quickly  mounted.  The  moon  was  still  shining 
brightly,  and  objects  on  the  white  sands  of  the  desert 
were  distinguishable  at  a  great  distance. 

Placidly  as  ever  flowed  the  Eio  Pecos,  its  gleaming 
sand  bars  looking  whiter  than  usual,  and  down  toward 
the  river  was  visible  the  figure  of  the  robber,  riding 
rapidly. 

"  The  cuss  has  shot  his  father,  the  old  man,  dead,, 
an'  got  away  with  my  watch,"  said  Kube,  as  he  pressed 
his  horse  into  a  hard  gallop  ;  "  an'  he'll  hev  to  swing 
fur  it,  I'm  thinkin',  if  there's  any  justice  in  Porty  de 
Luny." 

"  He's  makin'  fur  th'  river,"  said  Hank  Pennel,. 
who  had  been  watching  him  closely." 

"  Well,  he'd  better  look  out  how  he  crosses  'long 
here,"  said  Jim  Pardee,  the  third  rider. 

"Boggy?" 

"  Boggy  as  hell !" 

Doggedly  the  four  kept  after  the  one.  He  had  a 
long  start  and  a  better  horse,  and  he  gained  on  them 
perceptibly.  His  brain  too,  was  Clearer  than  theirs, 
for  he  had  not  been  drinking.  He  rode  diagonally 
toward  the  river,  aiming  to  reach  it  about  a  mile  below 


IN    THE    QUICKSAND.  Ill 

the  town.  Once  on  its  banks,  he  did  not  hesitate,  but 
dashed  boldly  in  for  the  other  side.  He  had  gotten 
about  half  way  across ;  the  water  was  up  to  his  horse's 
shoulder,  when  suddenly  the  animal  stopped,  reared 
slightly,  then  struggled  furiously  as  it  slowly  sank 
under,  caught  in  the  treacherous  quicksands  of  the 
river.  The  instant  the  rider  perceived  the  plight  of 
his  horse,  he  slipped  out  of  the  saddle  into  the  water, 
and  started  to  wade  across,  mercifully  sending  a  bul 
let  into  the  horse's  brain  before  he  left  its  side. 
The  water  rose  to  his  breast,  but  there  was  no  current, 
and  he  pushed  boldly  forward,  holding  his  rifle  and 
pistols  above  his  head.  But  he  too  had  taken  but  a 
few  steps  when  his  footing  slipped  away  from  him, 
and  he  found  himself  gripped  in  the  sand  and  slowly 
sinking.  Down,  down  he  went ;  struggle  as  hard  as 
he  might,  it  was  all  the  same  ;  he  was  fast  and  helpless. 
He  felt  the  cool  water  creep  up  on  his  breast,  little  by 
little  ;  now  it  touched  his  shoulder — now  his  throat — 

Just  at  this  moment  his  four  pursuers  dashed  up, 
and  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  stream.  The  head  of 
the  robber  was  plainly  visible  above  the  water,  upon 
which  the  moonlight  fell  so  that  its  reflections  lit  up 
his  eyes  until  they  glowed  phosphorescently. 

"  What'll  we  do  now  ?  "  said  Jim  to  the  others.  "I 
could  pitch  a  rope  over  him  a,n[  snake  him  out  in  no 
time,  if  you  say  so.  Shall  I  ?  " 

"  It  don't  seem  to  me  ez  if  'twas  policy,"  said  Rube 
slowly,  "  we  shall  hev  to  hang  him  anyhow,  an'  it'll 
save  trouble  in  buryin'  him,  an'  make  a  neater  job  all 
round  if  we  let  him  slide."  Then  raising  his  voice 
he  said,  "  Say  you  !  we  was  goin'  to  hang  you  when 


112  THE    WEDDING   AT    PUEKTA    DA    LUNA. 

we  ketched  you,  but  we've  concluded  to  let  you  off 
this  time.  No  thanks !  you're  quite  welcome  !  " 

The  only  answer  the  doomed  man  made  to  this  was 
to  level  the  pistol  he  still  held  above  his  head,  and 
fire.  The  ball  whistled  close  to  Eube's  shoulder. 

"  As  ungrateful  a  cuss  as  ever  I  seen,"  Rube  mut 
tered,  "  but  game." 

He  was  clear  game.  He  never  uttered  a  sound, 
but  silently  waited  his  inevitable  death.  Little  by 
little  he  sank  ;  the  water  rose  past  his  mouth,  past 
his  nostrils — his  eyes;  then  a  few  bubbles — 

Mechanically  and'  in  awed  silence,  a  little  over 
come  by  what  they  had  done,  the  four  men  rode  back 
to  the  town.  The  dawn  was  faintly  showing  in  the 
east,  and  the  moonlight  was  slowly  growing  yellow  as 
the  day  drew  near.  As  they  pulled  up  in  front  of 
the  Dew  Drop  and  dismounted,  Rube  suddenly 
slapped  his  hand  on  his  pocket  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Sold,  I  swear  !  He's  got  my  watch." 

The  river  still  rolls  on,  silent  and  yellow ;  the  air 
above  its  white  sand-bars  still  quivers  in  the  heat;  but 
there  is  nothing  to  mark  the  grave  of  the  desperado, 
and  his  only  funeral  oration  was  Rube's  remorseful 
reflection. 


VIII.   ON  WATCH  WITH  THE  NIGHT  HERD. 

The  day  had  been  one  of  hard  work,  for  we  had 
picked  up  many  cattle  that  morning,  "  on  circle,"  and 
the  afternoon  had  been  most  busily  spent  in  branding 
and  sorting  the  herd.  There  were  five  wagons  in  the 
Round-up  party ;  thirty-seven  men  all  told,  and  two 
hundred  and  fifty-six  horses.  When  we  came  to  clean 
up  the  herd  at  sunset  we  found  that  there  were  near 
ly  three  thousand  head  of  cattle  that  had  to  be  guard 
ed  and  watched  all  night. 

The  life  of  a  cowboy  is  one  of  constant  hardship 
and  peril.  He  is  in  the  saddle,  riding  a  vicious  horse, 
from  sunrise  to  sunset,  and  often  stands  guard  two 
hours  of  the  night  besides.  He  eats  beef,  fried  in 
lard  and  cooked  until  it  resembles  a  dried  leaf.  He 
is  supplied  with  the  yellowest  imaginable  doughy  bis 
cuits,  and  the  water  he  drinks  is  often  so  bitterly  alka 
line  as  to  be  nauseating.  During  the  day  he  suffers 
from  the  heat  and  lack  of  food  and  drink  ;  during  the 
night  from  the  cold  and  wet.  The  little  time  he  has 
for  sleep  he  often  spends  in  a  pool  of  water,  for  his 
bed  is  made  in  the  open  air  with  the  sky  for  a  roof. 
He  is  as  completely  isolated  from  the  world  as  if  he 
were  on  a  remote  island  ;  he  knows  nothing  of  what 
is  happening  in  civilization,  and  fortunately  doesn't 
care.  He  is  exposed  to  constant  danger  of  life  and 

(113) 


ON    WATCH    WITH    THE   NIGHT    HERD. 

limb  ;  associates  with  rough  men ;  hears  hard  talk  and 
sees  wild  deeds.  Is  it  a  wonder  then  that  the  cow 
boy  has  acquired  a  reputation  for  reckless  disregard 
for  his  own  and  other  people's  lives  ?  The  very  exis 
tence  he  leads  obliges  him  to  be  indifferent  to  danger, 
and  removed  as  he  is  from  many  of  the  restraints  of 
law  and  society,  he  is  very  apt  to  go  to  an  extreme. 
The  riders  are  sometimes  men  who  have  been  unable 
to  live  in  law-abiding  communities,and  have  gone  to  the 
frontier  to  escape  the  restraints  of  civilization.  These 
men  may  prosper  at  first,  but  never  for  long.  For  a 
time  they  act  the  part  of  the  bully  and  bravo  with 
great  success,  but  some  day  they  are  sure  to  meet  their 
fate — personified  in  some-quiet  spoken,  mild-mannered 
man — who  gets  the  "  drop  on  them  "  and  brings  them 
up  with  a  round  turn  and  a  short  shrift. 

The  captain  of  a  Eound-up  party  has  great 
powers  placed  in  his  hands,  and  the  man  who  occupies 
that  position  must  be  naturally  fitted  to  command. 
He  should  know  the  cattle  business  from  A  to  Z. 
Moreover,  he  must  be  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
country  through  which  the  Round-up  is  to  work,  for 
much  depends  on  him  whether  the  land  is  carefully 
searched  for  the  cattle,  since  a  knowledge  of  the  water 
ing-places  is  of  the  utmost  importance.  He  must 
have  good  executive  abilities,  and  be  possessed  of  firm 
ness  joined  to  good  temper.  He  is  invested  with  al 
most  autocratic  powers,  and  while  he  certainly  has  not 
the  legal  right  to  put  anyone  to  death,  there  are 
many  instances*  known  where  men  have  been  tried 
before  him  for  gross  crimes — murder  or  cattle-stealing 
— convicted,  sentenced,  and  executed. 


EVENING.  115 

By  a  territorial  law  no  man  is  allowed  to  carry  a 
pistol  on  the  Round-up,  and  the  reasons  for  this  are 
obvious.  In  the  first  place  it  is  quite  unnecessary  for 
any  one's  personal  safety  that  he  should  be  .armed. 
In  the  second  place,  the  men  being  all  quick  tempered, 
are  very  apt  to  resent  with  pistols — if  they  are  armed 
— some  slight  grievance,  that  otherwise  they  would  let 
pass,  or  settle  with  a  rough-and-tumble  fight.  In  the 
third  place,  the  life  of  the  Round-up  renders  the  re 
volver  dangerous  to  the  owner  himself,  because  of  the 
liability  to  accidents. 

After  supper,  the  eating  of  which  takes  an  incredi 
bly  short  time,  pipes  are  lit  and  the  men  have  their 
short  loafing  time.  Some  play  cards;  some  mend  their 
clothes  or  harness ;  some  even  wrestle  or  spar  a  little, 
though  not  very  actively,  for  there  is  not  a  rider  who 
is  not  dead  tired,  though  not  one  would  willingly  ad 
mit  it.  Here  a  musically  inclined  cowboy  is  playing 
a  fiddle  or  accordion  to  a  group  of  listeners,  who  now 
and  then  interrupt  him  to  call  for  some  favorite  air. 
There  is  a  group  discussing  some  event  of  the  day. 
The  great  staple  of  conversation  is  the  horse,  though 
one  hears  much  about  saddles,  bridles,  boots,slickers  and 
spurs.  Every  man  has  some  hobby  about  an  outfit  and 
likes  to  ventilate  it. 

"  What  party  is  the  L  J  Bar  wagon  workin'  with 
this  spring  ?  "  you  hear  one  man  ask. 

"  They're  with  the  Fort  Summer  Round-up,  workin' 
north." 

"  Is  Dutch  Jake  ridin'  with  them  now  ?  " 

!  th'  old  man  bounced  him  ;  said  he  used  to 


116  ON    WATCH    WITH    THE    NIGHT    HERD. 

stampede  the  herd  tryin'  to  talk  United  States — and 
he  wouldn't  have  him  round." 

The  humor  of  this  remark  is  received  with  a  light 
laugh,  and  it  is  a  specimen  of  much  of  the  talk. 

It  is  at  this  time  of  the  day  that  the  picturesque 
side  of  the  cowboy's  life  is  seen.  The  heavy  wagons, 
witli  their  white  canvass  covers,  are  drawn  up  in  a 
row  at  the  edge  of  the  stream,  and  around  them  are 
grouped  the  men.  They  are  all  young,  some  even 
boyish-looking  (I  never  saw  an  elderly  cowboy),  but 
they  have  sinewy,  well-knit  frames,  and  fresh,  open 
faces.  At  seven  o'clock,  the  first  guard  of  two  men 
goes  on  duty.  Their  business  is  to  picket  the  herd 
that  is  drawn  up  a  few  hundred  feet  from  camp,  and 
their  watch  extends  until  ten  o'clock,  when  they  are 
relieved.  By  eight  the  beds  of  the  men  are  stretched 
out  near  the  wagons,  and  before  many  minutes  the 
camp  is  asleep,  each  man  wrapped  in  a  heavy  tar 
paulin  to  keep  off  the  dew  and  rain.  The  horses 
that  are  to  be  ridden  later  by  the  reliefs  are  tied  near 
at  hand,  with  saddles  loosely  cinched  in  place.  In 
front  of  the  captain's  wagon  hangs  a  lantern,  the  only 
light  allowed  after  night-fall. 

When  I  turned  in  at  8:30  it  was  not  dark,  but  a  few 
stars  had  appeared  overhead,  and  it  bade  fair  to  be  a 
pleasant  night.  I  expected  to  watch  in  the  third  re 
lief,  from  12  to  2,  and  as  I  was  a  green  hand  I  was 
simply  to  ride  as  a  companion  to  the  regular  guard. 
It  seemed  as  if  I  had  been  asleep  but  ten  minutes  when 
I  felt  myself  roughly  shaken,  and  a  voice  shouted  in 
my  ear : 


THE   THIED    BELIEF.  11T 

"  Third  relief !  git  up,  pardner  !  " 

I  was  brim  full  of  sleep  and  it  was  hard  work  wak 
ing  up,  but  when  I  had  my  eyes  fairly  open,  I  hastily 
pulled  on  my  boots,  buckled  up  my  spurs,  slipped  on 
my  coat  and  hat,  and  picking  up  my  bridle  out  of  rny 
bed,  stumbled  over  to  my  pony,  already  saddled.  I 
quickly  fastened  the  bridle  over  his  head  and  tightened 
the  cinches,  and  had  just  finished  this  when  my  com 
panion  appeared  out  of  the  gloom,  on  his  horse. 

"Ready?"  he  asked. 

My  answer  was  to  mount,  and  the  next  moment  we 
were  riding  out  into  the  darkness,  in  the  direction  of 
the  herd.  The  night  was  as  black  as  a  pocket ;  heavy 
clouds  had  rolled  up  and  shut  out  the  stars,  and  there 
was  a  feel  of  rain  in  the  air. 

"  Got  yer  slicker  by  ye  ?  "  asked  Rube,  my  com 
panion. 

"  Yes,"  I  told  him. 

A  slicker  is  an  oil  cloth  coat,  made  for  horsemen ,. 
and  so  constructed  as  to  completely  cover  the  person 
of  the  wearer  and  his  saddle.  It  is  usually  carried 
tied  to  the  cantle,  ready  for  use  at  all  times,  for  dur 
ing  the  round-up  season  in  New  Mexico,  it  rains  nearly 
every  day. 

We  paused  to  catch  the  sound  of  the  restless  cattle,, 
and  rode  on  again  when  we  had  located  this.  On 
reaching  the  herd  we  found  the  guard,  relieved  it, 
and  then  began  our  watch.  There  were  three  of  us 
"  on  "  that  night ;  the  two  regular  men  and  myself. 
For  the  sake  of  the  society,  I  rode  with  Rube,  and  a& 
we  circled  round  the  herd  he  sang  merrily.  He  had 
a  long  repertory  of  words,  all  fitted  conveniently  to 


118  ON    WATCH    WITH    THE    NIGHT    HEED. 

the  same  sounds,  but  his  favorite  verse  sounded  some 
thing  like  this  : 

"  O  der  sling-iling — O  der  sling-Hung,  fur  hatz  pun  ahoy  ! 

Aus  ler  opree— scouse  ler  dopee, 

Dum  blitz  her  adoy." 

"  That's  German,"  said  he  complacently,  after  he 
had  repeated  it  a  good  many  times.  "  You  allus  got 
to  sing  to  the  cattle  in  the  night,  fer  if  they  didn't 
hear  you  comin'  you  might  skeer  a  skittish  heifer  into 
stampedin',  by  ridin  on  to  her  sudden." 
And  Rube  roared  out  again  : 

"  Aus  les  opree — scouse  ler  dopee, 
Dum  blitz  her  adoy," 

till  1  expected  to  hear  the  herd  rush  away  into  the 
night. 

Round  and  round  them  we  went.  It  was  pitch 
dark,  and  the  wind  from  the  north  came  piping  up 
with  a  cool  dampness  in  it  that  foretold  a  storm. 

It  blew  in  clouds  the  dust  into  which  the  many  thou 
sand  hoofs  had  ground  the  red  clay,  and  sent  it  sting 
ing  into  our  faces,  the  alkalai  making  our  throat  and 
eyes  smart  painfully.  The  cattle,  which  had  been  ly 
ing  down  and  quietly  reposing,  became  restless  and 
surged  now  this  way,  now  that,  as  some  impatient 
animal  urged  its  way  out  from  the  centre  of  the  mass. 
And  dark !  it  was  never  so  dark  before  or  since,  I  be 
lieve.  Certainly  it  could  never  be  darker. 

"  Gurus  sort  of  feel,  aint  it,  hearin'  all  them  cattle 
breathin'  ?  "  says  a  voice  by  my  side.  It  is  my  com 
panion,  and  though  I  can  almost  touch  him,  I  can  not 
see  him. 


119 

" Trul}7,"  I  say,  "it  sounds  a  little  like  the  noises 
of  the  sea ;  it  makes  one  feel  quite  lost  out  here,  en 
veloped  in  the  vast,  impenetrable  blackness  of  the 
night." 

Reuben  coughs  slightly.  He  evidently  thinks  iny 
language  is  above  my  business,  but  he  merely  remarks 
that  the  night  is  a  "  Caution."  Just  then  his  horse 
makes  a  quick  jump  away  from  the  herd  and  I  fancy 
I  can  see  the  white  form  of  a  cow  that  has  slipped  out 
from  the  bunch,  searching  for  her  calf,  which  she  has 
lost.  Away  she  goes  across  the  prairie,  and  Rube 
after  her  and  I  after  him.  She  keeps  her  lead  for  a 
few  yards  and  then  he  catches  her ;  she  doubles, 
twists  and  turns,  but  the  smart  little  pony  follows 
every  movement  and  slowly  heads  her  back  into  the 
herd.  Time  and  again  she  tries  to  break  away,  but 
as  often  as  she  does  she  is  met  and  turned,  and  at  last, 
trots  back  with  the  other  cattle,  Rube  muttering  as  he 
rejoins  me  that,  for  "  cussed  contrariness  he^d  like  to 
have  someone  show  him  something  to  beat  a  cow,  'less 
it  was  a  woman,  and  yet  where  the  difference  was  he 
couldn't  for  the  blessed  life  of  him  see." 

I  privately  suspect  that  Reuben  has  had  the  best 
impulses  of  a  confiding  heart  cruelly  betrayed,  at 
some  time  or  other;  he  seems  to  be  very  bitter, 
and  to  take  it  out  of  the  cow  at  every  opportunity. 

We  resume  our  tiresome  ride  round  and  round  the 
herd,  and  as  we  pass  the  other  guard  we  exchange 
a  few  words. 

"  Herd  blamed  uneasy  to-night,"  says  one  voice. 

"Dredful !  /reckon  we're  going  to  have  a  storm,'' 
replies  the  other  voice. 


120  ON    WATCH    WITH    THE    NIGHT    HERD. 

"/ex-pect!  Got  half  a  mind  to  call  the  cap'n;  guess 
better  hold  on  a  little  though,"  and  we  drift  apart  in 
the  darkness  and  continue  our  patrol.  Half  a  dozen 
times  does  Rube  ride  away  at  full  speed  after  some 
truant  cow,  and  each  time  does  he  drive  her  back, 
kt  cussin'  "  her  obstinacy.  The  cattle  are  getting  more 
and  more  restless. 

"  Don't  like  the  looks  of  things — not  in  the  least," 
he  says  at  last.  "  The  herd  is  actin'  like  as  if  the 
storm  was  plum  here."  As  he  speaks  a  flash  in  the 
west  lights  up  the  scene  for  an  instant,  and  then  comes 
the  low,  bass  rumble  of  the  thunder.  At  once  we 
hear  another  sound,  nearer  at  hand  and  more  unearthly. 
It  is  the  cattle  which,  startled  by  the  coming  storm 
they  have  long  been  dreading,  are  now  upon  their 
feet,  alert  and  anxious.  Suddenly,  almost  without 
warning,  a  wild  steer  makes  a  dash  for  liberty  and  in 
stantly  the  whole  herd — with  a  rush  that  shakes  the 
earth — are  off  in  a  mad  stampede.  It  is  as  irresist 
ible  as  a  tidal  wave.  We  are  caught  in  the  fearful 
panic  and  hurried  along,  helpless.  Our  position  is 
one  of  deadly  peril.  Surrounded  by  wild  animals, 
which  we  cannot  see,  pressed  on  all  sides  by  their 
hot  flanks,  our  safety  depends  entirely  upon  our  horses. 
Should  they  stumble,  or  we  become  unseated,  we 
should  be  instantly  trampled  to  death  by  the  sense 
less  brutes,  whose  headlong  flight  momently  increases 
their  terror.  This  is  the  greatest  danger  the  cowboy 
is  exposed  to,  and  many  a  stalwart  fellow  has  been 
thus  killed  in  a  night  stampede. 

By  spurring  hard  to  the  front  of  the  herd,  by 
shouting  and  yelling  and  a  vigorous  use  of  the  lash,  we 


OUT    ON    THE    PKAIKIE.  121 

succeed  in  slowly  checking  them,  but  not  until  after 
they  have  run  a  mile  or  more,  and  not  until  we  have 
lost  many  stragglers  out  of  the  bunch.  The  storm  is 
rapidly  approaching  ;  the  lightning  is  frequent ;  the 
thunder  incessant ;  the  cattle  wildly  uneasy.  As 
each  report  tears  the  air  into  shreds,  we  can  hear  them 
answer  it  with  convulsive  movements  or  low  bellowings. 

"  I  reckon  we'll  hev  to  hev  'em  out,  Rube,"  comes 
to  us  out  of  the  darkness ;  "  we  can't  begin  to 
hold  'em,  an'  they'll  be  all  over  God's  creation  in  an 
hour  at  this  rate." 

"  I  guess  that's  so,  though  I  hate  to  do  it,"  says 
Rube  regretfully.  Then  to  me :  "  Pardner,  wont 
you  ride  into  camp  an'  tell  the  old  man  the  facts  in 
the  case." 

And  so  I  start.  Two  miles  or  more  away  I  can  see 
a  spark,  looking  like  a  tiny  star.  This  is  the  lantern 
in  front  of  the  captain's  wagon,  and  touching  my 
weary  broncho  with  the  steel  I  ride  toward  it.  It  is  a 
singular  sensation  and  a  novel  one,  out  there  in  the 
pitch  dark  night,  a  cold  wind  blowing  rain  and  thun 
der  from  the  north.  Behind  me  is  a  herd  of  three 
thousand  wild  cattle,  churning  and  crowding,  and  con 
trolled  by  only  two  men.  In  front  is  space,  with  the 
single  star  to  guide  me  forward. 

But  it  was  hardly  the  time  for  reverie,  for  I  could 
hear  the  rain  as  it  came  sweeping  over  the  plains.  I 
dashed  into  camp  and  rode  straight  to  the  captain's 
wagon.  I  didn't  have  to  tell  him  what  the  trouble 
was,  for  no  sooner  did  he  hear  the  rain  and  thunder 
than  he  was  up  and  dressed,  booted,  spurred  and  coat 
ed.  He  hurried  toward  his  pony,  shouting,  "  Horses  ! 
H 


122  ON    WATCH    WITH    THE    NIGHT    HEED, 

Horses !  "  The  effect  was  magical.  Where  before 
had  lain  sleeping  men,  covered  with  white  tarpaulins, 
now  appeared  hurrying  forms,  groping  for  boots,  hats 
and  bridles.  The  cooks  lit  their  lanterns  and  re 
plenished  the  fires,  and  in  three  minutes  a  dozen  men 
were  mounted  and  on  the  way  to  the  relief.  I  rode 
with  them,  as  it  was  supposed  that  I  knew  the  location 
of  the  herd,  but  we  should  never  have  found  it  but 
for  the  vivid  lightning,  that  lit  up  the  scene,  and 
now  and  then  disclosed  the  low,  black  shadow  of  the 
cattle. 

All  the  rest  of  the  night  we  guarded  them.  Rain  ! 
How  it  did  rain !  Every  man  wore  his  "  slicker,"  but 
this  was  soon  wet  through.  My  heavy  sombrero, 
which  when  dry  was  as  hard  as  a  board,  grew  limp  and 
flabby,  and  hung  around  my  face  dejectedly.  The 
rain  streamed  from  my  hat,  my  coat,  my  boots,  until 
I  looked  like  a  broken  water-pipe  with  the  head  full 
on.  By  daylight  the  storm  ceased  and  we  were  or 
dered  back  to  camp,  the  wettest,  f  orlornest  looking 
group  imaginable.  The  herd  then  was  over  three 
miles  from  the  wagons,  the  stampede  and  the  storm 
having  carried  them  that  far  ;  for  cattle  drift  before 
the  wind  much  as  a  disabled  vessel  does  at  sea, 


IX.  DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

He  certainly  was  an  odd  one — that  is,  if  a  fancied 
resemblance  to  Cervantes'  hero,  modernized,  can  be 
.said  in  any  way  to  constitute  eccentricity. 

It  was  down  on  the  Pecos  that  Captain  Dick  Hosier 
first  met  and  adopted  him.  Captain  Dick  was  rid 
ing  over  from  the  X  Bar  X  ranch  to  the  Barzee,  of 
which  he  was  the  general  manager,  one  pleasant  morn 
ing  in  October,  and  had  just  reached  the  ford  by  the 
Laberde  grant,  intending  to  cross  the  river,  when  up 
on  the  opposite  bank  he  spied  a  stranger.  A  citizen 
of  New  Mexico  approaches  his  fellow  man  with  cau 
tion.  Almost  the  first  thing  an  acquaintance  with 
the  best  society  in  that  country  teaches  him  is 
narrowly  to  inspect  a  chance  comrade,  and  to  loosen 
his  pistol  in  its  holster  when  coming  within  range. 
And  so,  before  starting  his  horse  into  the  water, 
•Captain  Dick  had  a  look  at  the  man  across  the  stream. 

The  two  were  not  very  far  apart — fifty  yards  or  so, 
for  the  Pecos  was  not  wide  there — and  at  that  distance 
Dick  saw  that  the  other  was  a  tall,  gaunt  man  of  about 
fifty.  His  face  was  partly  hidden  behind  a  thin, 
scraggly  beard,  that  grew  randomly  out  of  a  dark, 
sun-burnt  skin  :  a  tangled  forest  of  hair  hung  from  his 
chin,  while  his  cheeks  were  like  the  open  prairie,  with 
only  an  occasional  sage-brush  spear  to  break  the 

(123) 


DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

smooth  monotony.  The  narrowness  of  his  face  was 
accentuated  by  two  small  eyes,  set  in  close  to  either 
side  of  a  thin,  pointed  nose;  and  his  head-covering  still 
further  exaggerated  this  effect,  for  in  place  of  the 
customary  sombrero  he  wore  a  small,  knit  skull-cap, 
that  fitted  tight  to  his  head.  This  cap  had  once  been 
black,  but  the  sun  and  the  rain  had  faded  it  until  it 
had  become  a  rusty  brown,  and  so  nearly  the  color 
of  his  clayey  hair  that  at  a  glance  he  appeared  to  be 
bare-headed.  Altogether  the  first  impression  he 
created  was  his  resemblance  to  a  straight  line — length 
without  breadth  or  thickness.  But  he  seemed  harm 
less  enough,  and  Captain  Dick  started  to  cross  the 
river,  giving  his  broncho  a  needless  touch  with  the  steel 
to  hasten  him.  The  stream  was  high  and  the  current 
swift,  and  although  the  horse  was  stout  and  sure-footed, 
he  found  it  no  light  task  to  breast  the  flood.  Half 
way  over  the  water  rose  above  the  stirrups,  and  Dick 
loosed  his  feet  and  sat  cross-legged  on  the  saddle. 
When  at  length  he  reached  the  bank,  and  halted  there 
a  moment,  the  stranger  gravely  saluted  him,  and  said 
slowly  : 

"Mornin5  Cap— it's  'bout  'leven  o'clock,, ain't  it?  " 
A  nearer  view  disclosed  several  things  that  Dick 
had  not  noticed  before — his  dress  for  one  thing.  A 
ragged,  faded  velveteen  jacket  ineffectually  covered 
the  upper  part  of  his  person,  while  his  lower  limbs 
were  cased  in  a  pair  of  heavy  leather  "  shapps."  They 
had  evidently  been  made  for  a  much  shorter  man 
than  their  present  owner,  for  there  was  a  yawning  gap 
between  the  lower  ends  and  the  deer-skin  moccasins 
that  covered  his  feet.  He  was  armed  cap-a-pie,  with  a 


HIS    AEMOE.  125 

Winchester  carbine  over  his  shoulder,  a  heavy 
Colt's  revolver  (45)  and  knife  at  his  waist,  and  enor 
mous  rusty  spurs,  with  jingling  chains,  on  his  feet. 
His  saddle  had  once  been  a  gorgeous  affair  of  stamped 
leather,  with  silver  trimmings,  one  a  grandee  might 
have  used  ;  but  now  it  was  tattered  and  torn,  hopeless 
ly  beyond  respectability.  The  leather  was  worn  away 
in  huge  patches  and  the  naked  wood  of  the  tree  ap 
peared  unblushingly  in  sight.  The  horse  matched  the 
saddle  and  the  rider.  Altogether  the  stranger  looked 
like  a  bandit  who  had  been  unfortunate  in  business, 
yet  his  smile  was  cherubic  in  its  sweetness. 

"If  you're  goin'  to  Santy  Rosy  we  might  ride 
7long  together,"  he  said  in  a  mild  voice,  and  although 
Dick  much  preferred  to  go  alone,  he  assented,  and 
they  rode  on. 

"  I  heard  tell  down  to  the  Cross-circle-diamond 
ranch  that  they  was  wantin'  a  cook  up  to  the  Barzee," 
the  stranger  said  slowly,  "  so  I  just  pulled  my  freight 
to  strike  the  job.  Know  if  it's  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,'  Dick  answered;  "  I'm  from  the  Barzee 
myself.  Can  you  cook  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly;  "  I  Jew  cook,  if  you  aint 
too  pertickler.  I  aint  fond  o'  cookin'  but  I  kw  do  it. 
I  kin  fry  beef,  make  a  tol'able  sallyratus  biscuit  an'  a 
middlin'  fair  pie  outen  most  anythin'.  But  I  aint 
enjoyed  cookin'  much  since  I  reformed. 

"  I  used  to  be  as  bad  as  any  of  'em,"  he  continued, 
leaving  Dick  in  some  doubt  as  to  whether  he  referred 
to  his  cooking  or  his  morals,  "  but  I  seen  th'  error  of 
my  way  'an  stopped  on  the  brink.  I  got  religion," 
— he  spoke  of  it  as  if  it  were  an  article  he  had  pur- 


126  DON    QUIXOTE    DE    SANTA    KOSA. 

chased — "  I  got  religion  with  a  feller  I  was  herdin'' 
sheep  with  down  on  the  Gallinas,  four  year  ago.  He 
let  me  into  the  ways  of  the  righteous  an'  I'm  walkin' 
in  the  straight  path  now  an'  forevermore.  Leastways,, 
I'm  walkin'  when  I  aint  ridin',"  he  added  solemnly 
and  accurately. 

They  soon  reached  Santa  Rosa.  Captain  Dick  had 
to  stop  there  a  short  time  on  business  with  the  black 
smith  and  the  harness  maker  (the  two  were  one  in 
Santa  Rosa),  and  so,  riding  up  in  front  of  the  Maver 
ick  Inn,  he  dismounted.  His  new  friend  called  after 
him  :  "  I  reckon  I'll  just  nachally  wait  'round  till  you 
come  out,  an'  look  over  the  sights." 

A '  half  hour  later  Dick  walked  out  to  his  horse, 
drawing  on  his  gloves  preparatory  to  mounting,  and 
then  discovered  that  his  new  companion  had  a  weak 
ness.  In  the  language  of  Gov.  Walker,  "he  was 
gellorious."  He  had  employed  his  half-hour  well, 
and  he  stood  at  that  moment  leaning  heavily  against  a, 
post  and  singing  in  lugubrious  and  wavering  tones  : 

"  Touched  with  a  sympathy  within, 
How  weak  our  feeble  frame. " 

Dick  was  puzzled  at  first  to  know  what  to  do  with 
him.  He  had  previously  determined  to  take  him  to- 
the  ranch,  for  he  did  need  a  cook  there,  yet  when  he 
saw  his  condition  he  hesitated.  Not  just  because  the 
man  was  drunk — looking  from  a  moral  standpoint — 
but  because,  being  drunk,  he  was  difficult  of  transpor 
tation.  But  Dick  knew  that  a  cowboy  can  often  ride 
when  he  cannot  walk ;  so  with  a  little  assistance  he 
rolled  the  stranger  into  his  saddle  and  the  two  started. 
For  the  first  few  miles  they  proceeded  on  a  walk ;. 


127 

then  as  the  stranger  grew  slightly  sober,  and  his 
seat  in  the  saddle  became  more  assured,  they  broke 
into  a  trot  and  were  riding  at  this  gait  when,  making 
a  sudden  turn  in  the  road,  around  the  point  of  a  mesa, 
they  came  upon  a  herd  of  burros,  driven  by  three 
Mexicans  ;  two  boys  and  an  old  man.  These  hurriedly 
scattered  out  of  the  way,  and  as  the  two  riders  rattled 
by,  the  old  man  saluted  them  with  a  respectful : 

"  Buenos  dias,  senores  !  " 

They  had  passed  them  but  a  few  yards  when  Dick's 
companion  pulled  up,  and  turning  to  him,  said  with 
drunken  gravity  : 

"  Did  ye  see  tha'  Greaser  make  face  't  me  ?  He 
'suit  me  an'  I'm  goin'  t'  rebuke  'irn,"  and  he  unslung 
his  rifle. 

"  No,  no  !  he  didn't  make  a  face  at  you"  Dick  said, 
endeavoring  to  quiet  him  ;  "  that  was  at  me." 

"  Thas  all  ri',  but  aint  you  goin'  t'ave  sas'fas'hun  ? " 

"  No,  not  now  ;  to-morrow,  perhaps." 

u  Thas'  all  ri',  but  you're  my  frien'  an'  goo'  f 'ler,  an' 
I'll  'ave  sas'fas'hun  for  you,"  and  before  Dick  could 
stop  him  the  stranger  threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder 
and  fired.  It  was  a  chance  shot,  of  course,  but  it  was 
a  true  one,  and  down  went  the  old  man  and  the  burro 
he  was  riding,  both  apparently  dead.  The  avenger  of 
his  honor  looked  smilingly  at  Dick,  and  then  at  his 
victims,  lying  in  the  dust,  and  said  pleasantly :  "  Th' 
man  t'  wont  do  that  fur  fren  aint  worth'  name  o' 
man.  How's  that  fur  a  shot,  eh  ? " 

Dick  was  seriously  alarmed,  for  not  only  did  he 
realize  the  sin  of  killing  an  unarmed  man — even  in 
New  Mexico — but  he  knew  the  fellow-countrymen  of 


128  DON   QUIXOTE    DE    SANTA    ROSA. 

the  victim  would  work  reprisals  on  him  by  stealing  his 
stock  and  annoying  his  men  in  every  possible  way. 
And  he  was  still  more  disturbed  when  he  saw  his 
companion  preparing  to  shoot  again. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  he  cried,  "you've  killed  him  ;  that's 
enough ;  you'd  better  get  out  of  here  now  as  quick  as 
you  can." 

u  Killed  him  all  ri',  on'y  he  aint  th'  one.  Here  goes 
fur  'nother — wash  th'  lill  f'ler  jump,"  and  Dick  had 
just  time  to  strike  up  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle  when  it 
was  discharged  again.  Then,  in  desperation,  he  seized 
his  companion's  bridle,  and  facing  him  down  the  road, 
laid  his  "cuert"  smartly  over  the  horse's  back,  and  in  an 
other  moment  they  had  rattled  out  of  sight  around  a 
turn  in  the  road.  It  afterward  turned  out  that  the 
burro  was  killed,  but  the  Mexican  was  unhurt  beyond 
a  very  bad  fright. 

That  evening  the  men  sat  around  the  fire  in  the 
bunk-room  at  the  ranch  house,  talking  and  passing 
the  time  as  usual.  The  new  arrival  had  been  installed 
as  cook,  with  a  monthly  compensation  of  forty  dollars 
and  board,  and  he  was  at  that  moment  in  the  kitchen 
attending  to  his  duties.  Jim  Carroll — the  foreman,  who 
was  popularly  believed  to  possess  fine  literary  acquire 
ments,  shamefully  wasted  in  cow-punching,  was  quite 
taken  with  the  cook's  appearance  and  with  Captain 
Dick's  adventure  of  the  morning,  and  he  declared  that 
henceforth  the  new  comer  should  be  known  as  Don 
Quixote  de  Santa  Rosa,  which  name  was  adopted  by 
acclamation  and  promptly  shortened  to  Don. 

"Still  I  can't  make  him  out,"  said  Reuben  Friday  ; 
"  not  in  the  least ;  he  says  he's  a  worker  in  the  vine- 


HIS    MANNER    OF    SPEECH.  129 

yards  an'  he's  gone  to  cookin'  to  help  out,  but  /  think 
he's  a  stray  from  the  Kio  Grandy ;  Maverick  maybe, 
fur  I  don't  see  no  brand  on  him." 

"No,  he  aint  a  Maverick,"  said  Bill  Coleman,  ufur 
he  told  me  he  belonged  to  the  Band  of  Hope  outfit, 
and  was  out  lookin'  over  the  range,  roundin'  up.  I 
reckon  he  hadn't  better  make  any  con  verts  in  our  herd  ; 
some  folks  might  think  he  was  stealin'  cattle." 

Day  by  day  the  men  learned  to  like  the  Don.  He 
had  such  a  modest  way  about  him ;  he  was  never 
blustering,  never  profane,  but  always  quiet  and  cheer 
ful.  He  was  not  didactic  or  puritanical,  but  he  had 
a  singular  habit  of  interspersing  scriptural  selections 
through  his  conversations  that  at  first  was  very  puz 
zling  to  the  men.  He  did  this  without  the  slightest 
notion  of  the  incongruity  or  of  the  unpleasant  effect  it 
had  on  some,  for  he  did  it  all  in  a  deeply  reverent  way. 
He  never  drank  again,  and  was  deeply  mortified  at  his 
one  unfortunate  lapse.  It  is  true  he  could  not  cook — 
true  indeed,  that  he  made  worse  failures  than  any 
cowboy  ever  made  before — but  somehow  no  one  could 
find  fault  with  him. 

"  Them  biscuits  hev  got  consid'able  sallyratus  in 
7em,  I  expect,"  he  used  to  say,  apologetically,  as  he 
daily  laid  a  pan  of  heavy,  saffron-colored  lumps  of 
dough  on  the  table,  "  but  it  seems  to  take  a  heap  of  it 
t'  operate  on  this  flour.  I  cal'late  there's  four  parts 
sallyratus  to  three  of  flour — fear  ye  not  death — but 
you  won't  mind  it  with  a  little  raw  onion  and  plenty 
o'  salt." 

His  mode  of  cooking  beef  too,  was  darkly  mysteri 
ous.  There  would  appear  on  the  table,  three  times  a 


130          DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  KOSA. 

day,  a  dingy,  blackened  pan,  filled  with  a  something 
or  other,  floating  in  melted  grease,  and  as  the  Don  laid 
it  down  he  would  smile  benevolently,  seeming  to  say 
that  no  one  could  guess  what  that  contained,  not  if  he 
were  to  try  a  week. 

"  Th'  foundation  fur  it  is  fried  beef,"  he  would  say, 
"  but  there  is  other  things  in  it  fur  to  give  it  twang 
—I  bring  ye  tidings  of  joy — such  as  chopped  pertaters 
an'  pork.  It's  got  consid'able  nourishment  into  it, 
though  it  don't  look  so  very  good." 

One  day  there  was  great  excitement  at  the  Barzee — 
the  Don  had  been  there  about  four  months  then— for  a 
neighbor  rode  up  and  reported  that  there  was  to  be  a 
dance  the  next  night  at  the  "  Widder  Davis's,"  four 
miles  up  Los  Tanos. 

"The  "  Widder  "  was  the  relict  of  the  late  Jim 
Davis,  who  came  to  an  untimely  end  some  five  years 
before  by  reason  of  his  pistol's  missing  fire.  Besides 
the  Widder,  Davis  had  left  behind  him  a  son  and  a 
daughter.  They  had  prospered,  and  "by  shrewd  and 
careful  management  of  what  the  old  man  had  be 
queathed  them,  had  become  possessed  of  a  fair  ranch 
and  a  bunch  of  seven  hundred  cattle.  The  son  was  a 
harum-scarum  fellow,  even  for  a  cow-puncher ;  the 
Widder  was  admitted  to  be  a  Rustler.  As  for  the 
daughter — Mirandy — she  was  the  belle  of  San  Miguel 
County.  Few  who  saw  her  could  resist  her  fascinations. 
She  was  none  of  your  sickly  wee  things  ;  that  kind 
does  not  flourish  on  the  frontier.  No,  Mirandy  was 
"  stout,  strong  and  handsome  with.il."  And  yet, 
frontier  born  and  bred  though  she  was,  she  had  all  the 
coquettish  ways  that  some  think  are  only  acquired  by 


MIKANDY.  131 

a  society  training,  but  which  are  in  truth  as  much  a 
part  of  woman's  make-up  as  her  back  hair.  It  was  a 
liberal  education  to  see  Mirandy  modestly  drop  her  eye 
lids  when  one  of  her  admirers  was  touching  on  dan 
gerous  ground,  or  to  hear  her  say,  "  Get  along  now 
Bill,  or  I'll  lam  ye,"  and  to  note  the  stalwart  cuff  she 
administered  to  Bill,  if  he  attempted  to  steal  a  kiss. 
Admirers  she  had  by  the  score,  suitors  by  the  dozen, 
but  never  an  accepted  lover  among  them  all.  She  wa& 
believed  to  be  heart  whole  and  fancy  free,  a  condition 
which  added  an  indefinable  charm  to  her  society. 

Of  course  such  an  event  as  a  dance  was  hailed  with 
pleasure,  and  every  one  at  once  made  ready.  There 
was  a  greasing  of  boots  and  a  polishing  of  spurs  and 
a  dusting  of  clothing  all  that  day  and  the  next.  The 
time  for  starting  was  impatiently  waited,  but  at  last  it 
came,  and  the  party  was  off— a  cavalcade  of  six,  in 
cluding  the  Don.  The  dance  did  not  differ  greatly 
from  the  usual  affairs  of  that  kind.  No  one  was  shot^ 
no  one  was  even  physically  hurt ;  but  there  was  one  of 
the  party  who  was  apparently  wounded  in  a  serious 
way.  I  refer  to  the  Don  and  the  Don's  very  suscepti 
ble  heart.  The  attentions  that  he  lavished  upon  both 
the  Widder  and  Mirandy  that  night  were  the  cause  of 
much  remark.  With  what  grace  did  he  lead  the  matron 
out  on  the  floor,  and  take  his  place  at  the  head  of  the 
reel ;  with  what  a  stately  bow  did  he  salute  her  as  the 
accordion  and  fiddle  struck  up  Money-musk  ;  with 
what  ease  and  dignity  did  he  guide  his  buxom  partner 
down  the  middle,  his  huge  spurs  and  chains  playing  a 
jingling  accompaniment  to  the  music,  and  then,  when 


132         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  KOSA. 

the  dance  was  over,  how  gallantly  did  he  lead  her  to  a 
seat  and  hurry  to  get  her  some  negus.  To  see  him 
you'd  have  thought  he  was  a  carpet-knight  born  and 
bred,  instead  of  the  cook  of  the  Barzee  ranch. 

And  then,  when  he  appealed  to  Miss  Mirandy  for 
the  favor  of  her  hand  in  the  bolero,  how  cleverly 
he  showed  his  versatility.  With  the  dame  he  had  been 
dignified ;  with  the  maiden  he  was  as  agile  and  grace 
ful  as  Jose  Garcia,  the  handsome  young  Mexican, 
said  to  be  the  best  dancer  and  the  worst  liar  in  San 
Miguel  County.  The  other  dancers  paused  to  watch 
the  two  as  they  swayed  and  pirouetted  to  the  music, 
and  when  at  last  they  stopped,  cheered  them  right 
heartily.  It  would  be  worth  a  good  deal  to  you  could 
you  have  seen  the  gallant  way  in  which  the  Don  led 
his  breathless  partner  to  a  seat,  and  stood  by  her  side, 
fanning  her  with  a  huge  palm  leaf  that  raised  such  a 
breeze  in  the  room  as  to  blow  out  one  of  the  lights. 
And  not  the  worst  part  of  it  all  either,  was  to  see  the 
savage  scowl  that  came  over  Jose  Gracia's  swarthy 
face  at  finding  himself — hitherto  the  best  dancer  in 
all  the  county,  just  beaten  by  a — cook.  The  Don 
treated  Jose's  ill  humor  with  the  haughty  disdain  that 
it  merited — and  led  out  Mirandy  to  supper. 

"  It  beats  all  how  he  kin  round-up  an'  cut  out  just 
the  heifer  he  wants,  every  time,  while  we  fellers  can't 
even  git  outen  the  corral,"  said  one  disconsolate  wall 
flower,  envious  of  the  Don's  popularity  with  the  sex. 

But  the  Barzee  men  were  proud  to  find  themselves 
so  well  represented  on  the  floor. 

As  they  rode  back  to  the  ranch  after  the  ball  was 
-over,  the  Don  was  the  only  silent  one  in  the  party. 


133 

He  was  evidently  turning  something  over  in  his  mind, 
and  gave  no  heed  to  what  was  said  to  him,  though 
Jim  Carrol  swore  that  he  heard  him  mutter  to  him 
self  something  about  maiden's  tears  and  lover's  fears, 
and  so  it  was  promptly  agreed  that  the  Don  was  in  love. 

The  effect  of  his  new  attachment  became  at 
once  noticeable  in  his  cooking.  Instead  of  the  biscuits 
having  four  parts  saleratus  to  three  of  flour,  the  pro 
portion  became  as  five  to  two.  His  "  Irish  stew  "  de 
generated  into  something  beyond  belief  or  description  ; 
his  dishes  were  never  washed.  "  I  don't  want  you 
waddys  to  git  too  blame  finicky — take  no  thought 
'bout  what  ye  shall  eat,"  he  explained. 

"  Look  here,  Don !"  roared  Jim  one  morning,  as  the 
Don  absent-mindedly  emptied  a  pot  of  boiling  coffee 
on  his  wrist ;  "What  d'ye  mean  ?  I  aint  a  cup  !  " 

'•  I  know  it,  Jimmie,  I  know  it,"  said  the  Don 
mildly  ;  "  fight  ye  the  good  light— I'll  make  some  more 
in  a  minute,"  and  Jim  had  to  be  contented  with  that 
apology. 

Every  evening  after  supper  the  Don  would  mount 
Rozinante  and  ride  away  to  court  his  Dulcinea  del 
Tanos.  ]STo  one  ever  knew  what  time  he  returned,  but 
he  always  had  breakfast — of  a  certain  kind— ready  by 
sunrise.  He  was  extremely  reticent  about  his  affairs 
and  gave  no  hint  concerning  them,  nor  could  the  men 
judge  from  his  manner  how  he  prospered.  It  wasn't 
even  known  whether  it  was  the  mother  or  the  daugh 
ter  he  sought. 

"  Come,  Don  "  said  Kube  once,  at  supper,  "  we're 
old  friends,  you  know,  and  you  ought  to  tell  us.  Is 
it  the  Widder  or  Mirandy  ?  " 


134:  DON    QUIXOTE    DE    SANTA    KOSA. 

The  Don  merely  smiled  his  pleasant  smile  and  said 
softly  ;  "  It's  both— all  flesh  is  grass,  Keuben,"  and 
that  was  all  they  got  from  him. 

u  I'd  like  to  know  how  he  gits  along,"  said  one  of 
the  boys  one  evening,  as  the  Don  rode  away  ;  "  though 
if  love  an'  affection  is  anyways  influenced  by  sally- 
ratus,  I  reckon  he'll  get  thar,  Eli." 

"Wai,"  said  Shorty,  as  he  reared  his  six-foot  body 
in  front  of  the  fire,  and  faced  the  party,  "  If  he  un 
dertakes  to  hitch  up  th'  Widder,  he  wants  to  cinch 
his  saddle  pretty  snug  or  he'll  git  throwd.  Women 
are  a  queer  lot." 

It  was  generally  understood  that  when  Shorty  spoke 
of  Women  he  knew  what  he  was  talking  about ;  he 
had  been  married  himself  more  or  less  several  times, 
and  his  knowledge  had  been  gained  by  long  and  bit 
ter  experience. 

This  condition  of  affairs  continued  through  most  of 
the  winter.  Regularly  every  night  the  Don  rode  away 
into  the  darkness,  and  regularly  the  next  morning  he 
was  to  be  seen  bending  over  the  cracked  stove,  stirring 
round  and  round  his  unholy  concoctions.  He  was 
never  late  and  his  demeanor  never  varied  from  day  to 
day.  The  only  change  noticeable  about  him  was  that 
already  mentioned — his  cooking — which  finally  be 
came  so  bad  that  even  the  cowboys  objected.  Still  the 
Don  received  the  complaints  as  if  they  were  words  of 
praise,  and  went  on  his  quiet,  dogged  way,  unmoved 
and  smiling. 

But  one  morning  he  appeared  at  breakfast,  looking 
but  the  battered  wreck  of  his  former  self.  Dark  cir 
cles  of  black  framed  his  eyes  and  one  was  swollen  shut. 


135 

His  velveteen  jacket  was  torn  up  the  back  and  a  sleeve 
was  gone.  His  right  wrist  seemed  to  be  sprained  and 
he  limped  as  he  walked.  He  received  the  chaffing  in 
silence. 

"  Hullo,  Don !  "  cried  Kube  ;  "  what's  up  ?  Widder 
must  hev  bin  extry  'fectionate  last  night." 

"It's  all  along  of  his  bronk,  that  is,"  said  Shorty. 
"  He's  bin  feedin'  it  some  of  his  cussed  sallyratus  bis 
cuit  on  the  sly,  till  the  beast  got  to  feelin'  so  good 
it  most  kicked  the  head  ofFn  him." 

The  Don  resolutely  refused  to  disclose  the  cause 
of  his  dilapidated  appearance,  and  went  about  his  du 
ties  wearing  a  piece  of  raw  beef  tied  over  his  eye,  but 
otherwise  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened.  But 
that  evening,  instead  of  mounting  Rozinante  and  rid 
ing  away,  he  took  his  seat  by  the  fire,  and  briefly  told 
his  story. 

"  It'll  set  your  minds  at  rest,  maybe,  if  I  tell  you 
'bout  it,"  he  said,  "  an'  so  I  cal'late  to  do  it.  That 
night — spell  ago — when  we  went  over  to  the  Davis's 
to  the  dance,  I  was  quite  took  with  the  looks  of  Miss 
Davis  an'  Mirandy,  an'  I  says  to  myself — like  as  not 
you  need  converting  most  every  one  does  in  this  coun 
try — an'  for  brass  will  I  give  you  gold,  I  says  ;  yea, 
much  gold,  says  I.  Well,  last  night  a  young  f 'ler  rode 
up  an'  got  off'n  his  hoss  an'  come  in.  The  Widder 
didn't  seem  to  shine  to  him,  but  Mirandy  called  him 
Bobby."  Here  the  Don  paused  and  repeated  thought 
fully:  "  Yes,  sir,  she  called  him  Bobby,  right  before 
my  eyes."  Then  resuming  his  story:  "Well,  he 
talked  a  good  deal  an'  acted  's  if  he  owned  San  Migell 
County  ;  indulgin'  freely  in  ripartee  an'  other  little 


136         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

things,  till  finally  I  says  :  '  My  friend,  are  you  lookin' 
to  be  saved  ?  '  an'  then  he  says,  he  wasn't  thinkin' 
about  himself,  but  he  reckoned  he'd  hev  to  keep  his 
eye  on  his  hoss,  so  long  as  I  was  about,  if  he  wanted  to 
save  him.  Then  Mirandy  laughed,  so  I  turned  to 
her  an'  I  says:  '  It  would  seem  as  if  that  young  man's 
been  poorly  brought  up;  he's  a  Mexikin,  aint  he?' 
Well — that's  'bout  all  I  distinctly  remember  now ; 
there's  a  interval  in  my  life  where  all  is  naught." 
Here  the  Don  made  an  attempt  to  smile  that  was  lost 
in  the  swelling  of  his  cheek.  u  Th'  only  way  you  can 
be  free  with  any  one  in  this  country  is  to  get  th'  drop 
on  him.  I  reckon  1  won't  go  there  so  often,  after 
this." 

And  from  that  day  his  visits  ceased  altogether. 

Spring  came  at  last,  though  the  transition  from  win 
ter  was  so  gradual  that  we  should  hardly  have  noticed 
the  change  but  for  Jim  Carrol,  whose  poetic  nature  was 
stirred  by  the  advent  of  the  new  season,  and  who  took 
every  opportunity  to  assure  us  that,  "  The  earth 
again  is  young  and  fair,  ethereal  mildness  fills  the  air, 
spring,  gentle  spring  smiles  on  the  land,  and  May 
flowers  bloom  on  every  hand." 

With  the  warmer  weather  came  the  usual  work  on 
the  range.  More  riders  were  needed,  and  the  Don 
was  relieved  from  his  duties  as  cook  and  sent  out  to 
look  up  stray  cattle.  This  change  in  his  labors  he 
hailed  with  pleasure,  although  it  meant  a  loss  of  ten 
dollars  a  month  and  harder  work. 

"  I've  allers  held  that  cookin'  warnt  no  proper  busi 
ness  fur  a  white  man,"  he  said;  "but  I  done  it— 


SPRING    WORK.  137 

blessed  are  the  meek— an'  it's  conquered  my  pride  in 
great  shape." 

Preparations  for  the  Spring  Round-up  were  rapidly 
made  ;  the  wagons  were  examined  and  repaired  ;  the 
horses  were  driven  up  from  the  pasture  and  corralled 
in  a  convenient  place  ;  new  horses  were  broken  in  and 
old  ones  shod.  Men  were  sent  out  over  the  range  to 
examine  the  watering-places,  with  orders  to  pull  out 
of  the  boggy  ground  about  them  any  Barzee  cattle  that 
had  become  mired  and  unable  to  extricate  themselves. 
These  duties  were  hard  and  disagreeable,  having 
neither  the  excitement  nor  the  social  pleasures  incident 
to  a  Round-up,  but  the  Don  performed  his  part  will 
ingly.  One  morning  he  rode  away  from  the  ranch  with 
instructions  to  examine  carefully  a  certain  specified 
territory  that  lay  in  the  west.  His  route  led  up  Los 
Tanos  and  as  he  started,  Rube,  who  was  preparing  to 
ride  south,  called  out  to  him,  in  unconscious  quotation 
of  Tony  Weller  :  "  Beware  o'  th'  Widder,  Don!"  To 
which  the  Don  replied  with  a  wave  of  his  hand : 
"  Thanks,  Reuben — judge  ye  not  others,"  and  disap 
peared  around  a  bend  in  the  stream. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  of  his  excur 
sion  that  found  him  approaching  the  Horse- shoe  V  3 
ranch.  It  had  been  a  perfect  day  in  April,  that  best 
of  all  months  in  New  Mexico.  The  gramma  grass 
had  exchanged  its  winter  coat  of  silver  for  a  fresher 
one  of  green  ;  the  few  trees  that  grew  along  the  river 
were  bright  in  leaf  and  blossom.  Even  the  sombre 
sage-bush  had  put  off  its  mournful  gray  and  the  cactus 
was  gorgeous  in  its  yellow  flowers.  The  cattle  too 
seemed  to  feel  the  benign  influences  of  spring,  and  as 
I 


138         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  EOSA. 

the  Don  drew  near,  hurried  helter-skelter  across  the 
vegas,  followed  in  frisky  content  by  their  wobbly, 
long-legged  calves.  The  prairie-dogs  squeaked  in  their 
hundred  holes,  and  here  and  there  a  rattlesnake  might 
be  seen,  gliding  rapidly  away  on  the  approach  of  a 
man. 

The  Don  dismounted  at  the  ranch  house,  and  having 
unsaddled  Rozinante  and  turned  him  into  the  corral, 
strode  into  the  bunk-room. 

"  I'm  from  the  Barzee,"  he  said  to  one  of  two  oc 
cupants  there,  "  an'  I'll  put  up  with  ye — the  birds  of 
the  air  hev  nests — 'till  to-morrer." 

"  Well !  "  said  one  of  the  men,  "  what's  the  news 
over  to  the  Barzee  way  ?  " 

"  Nuthin'  much  !  "  said  the  Don  as  he  took  a  seat  on 
a  bunk  and  commenced  to  whittle. 

The  two  men  resumed  their  interrupted  conversa 
tion. 

"  You  was  sayin'  th'  cattle  was  lookin'  well  up  your 
way  ? "  said  one. 

"  Middlin',  though  th'  old  man  is  growlin'  'bout  th' 
range  gettin'  crowded." 

"  Well,  he's  'bout  right — more  blamed  tenderfeet 
rushin'  in  with  their  Texas  cattle,  that  don't  know  a 
yearlin' from  a  parara-dog.  /say  there  ought  to  be 
some  law  'bout  it." 

"  Guess  that's  so  !     Any  strangers  'round  here  ? " 

"  Naw,  'ceptin'  him,"  pointing  to  the  Don. 

"  Him !  Oh,  he  aint  no  stranger.  He's  nothin' 
but  a  graven  image." 

The  two  men  chuckled  over  this  remark,  which  the 
Don  heard  but  declined  to  notice. 


NIGHT   AT   THE   KANCH.  139 

"  Seen  Mack  lately  ?  " 

"  Mack !  yes,  week  ago.  Had  the  spring  fever  bad 
then  ;  delerious.  Thought  I  was  his  grandfather  .first 
an'  then  swore  I  was  the  devil." 

"  Well,  you  might  hev  bin  his  grandfather  all  the 
same.  Mack's  got  a  pecooliar  pedigree." 

"  Haw !  haw  !     Well,  so  long !     I  must  be  gettin'." 

"  Well,  so  long  !  " 

Bed  time  comes  early  at  a  ranch,  and  there  were  a 
-dozen  men  packed  away  in  the  bunk-room  that  night, 
when  Texas,  the  foreman,  shied  his  spurred  boot  at 
the  candle.  Yet,  although  the  Don  was  tired,  for  he 
had  ridden  far  and  hard,  he  could  not  sleep.  He  was 
dissatisfied  with  his  lot.  He  had  a  soul  above  his 
work,  and  yet  he  had  succeeded  in  nothing  else.  He 
had  always  had  a  lofty  ideal  in  Woman — an  ideal  that 
had  been  rudely  shaken  several  times,  but  still  stood 
upright — and  yet  he  had  not  been  fairly  treated  by  the 
sex.  There  was  that  little  incident  at  the  Widder 
Davis's — he  still  recollected  the  details  of  that  per 
fectly.  Indeed,  there  were  one  or  two  black  and  blue 
spots  on  his  body  yet.  Still  for  all  that,  his  chivalrous 
regard  for  Woman — as  Woman — was  unabated,thoua-h 
when  you  came  to  particularize — well,  that  was  a  dif 
ferent  matter.  He  was  partially  roused  from  his  reverie 
by  hearing  a  voice  over  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the 
room  say : 

"  Wai,  Jim  was  sayin'  you  punched  the  feller's  head 
till  he  didn't  know  nothin'." 

"  Guess  1  didn't  hurt  him  very  much  then,  fur  he 
didn't  know  nothin'  afore." 

"  Haw !  haw !  best  ever  heard  ;  must  tell  Jim  that." 


140          DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

"  Why,  the  feller  called  me  a  Mexikin,"  said  the 
second  voice  ;  "  I'd  a  right  t'  hev  pumped  lead  into 
him  fur  that,  hedn't  I  ?  " 

"  Surely,  but  Jim  was  sayin'  you  called  the  feller  a 
hoss-thief." 

"Don't  recollec'  'bout  that.  Might  'a  done  so; 
never  could  recollec'  little  things." 

"  Haw  !  haw  !  When  did  you  say  you  was  goin'  to 
run  the  gal  off  ? " 

"  To-morrer,  I  ex-pec'.  She'll  be  all  alone  up  to  the 
place.  Th'  Widder's  gone  to  Yegas  and  Tom  Davis — 
well,  you  know  him  ? " 

"Yes,  /know  him.  So  you  cal'late  to  run  her  off 
to-morrer,  when  her  nat'eral  guardeen  is  away,  eh 
Bob  ?  " 

"  Yes,  an'  make  for  Santy  Rosy,"  said  Bob.  "And 
I'd  like  mighty  well  if  you  could  be  there  then,  Billy.'7 

The  Don  saw  it  all.  This  was  the  young  man  he  had 
had  the  trouble  with  at  the  Widder's  that  night  last 
winter,  and  now  he  was  going  to  forcibly  abduct 
Mirandy  in  the  absence  of  her  mother  and  brother. 
All  the  chivalry  in  the  Don's  nature  was  roused  at 
this.  He  determined  to  thwart  the  scheme,  and  save 
the  lovely  damsel  from  the  clutches  of  the  villain.  He 
would— his  thoughts  were  again  interrupted. 

"  How  was  you  'lowin'  to  do  it,  if  it's  a  fair  question, 
Bob  ?  "  said  the  first  voice. 

"It  surely  is.  Why,  I  was  just  a  goin'  to  put  her 
on  a  pony  and  then  dust  for  Santy  Rosy.  I  figgered 
to  f  oiler  the  old  overland  stage  trail,  till  we  come  to 
the  Montezumy  Marshes,  and  then — cross  lots.  There 
is  a  path  over  that  bog  near  the  spring,  that  only  two 


THE    PLOT   DISCLOSED. 

fellers — I  and  Kube  Friday — know — an'  I'll  save  five 
mile  over  follerin'  the  rud,  that  way.  Shouldn't  care 
to  try  it  with  a  female  gen'rally,  but  ez  we  aint  lied 
rain  in  six  months  I  reckon  the  bog  aint  very  shaky !  " 

"  Yes,  you  kin  do  it,  I  guess.  Well,  good  night 
Bob  ! " 

"  Well,  good  night  Bill !     Say  Bill ! " 

"Huh!" 

"You'd  orter  been  there  to  the  Widder's  that  night 
and  seen  old  Ten  Commandments.  One — two — three 
— down  he  went.  One — two — three — down  again. 
No  guns  drawd  ;  just  stan'  up  an'  knock  down.  Haw! 
haw!" 

The  hurnor  of  the  situation  evidently  appealed  to 
Bill  as  well  as  Bob,  and  for  some  time  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  sound  of  subdued  chuckling. 

"  Bill  Eansom  ! "  said  voice  No.  2  at  length.  "  I 
want  you  to  be  over  to  Santy  Rosy  to-morrow  at  three 
o'clock.  You're  goin'  to  stand  by  me,  aint  you  ? " 

"You  bet  I'll  be  there;. if  I  aint,  I  don't  want  an 
other  cent  in  this  world."  Silence  followed  for  a 
while  ;  then  Bill  drew  a  long  sigh  and  murmured  : 

"  Well,  good  night  Bob  ;  good  luck  !  " 

"  Well,  good  night,  Bill,  old  boy,"  and  the  camp 
slept. 

Before  sunrise  next  morning  the  Don  left  the 
Horseshoe  Y  3  ranch.  He  had  passed  a  sleepless 
night  thinking  over  what  he  had  heard,  and  as  he  placed 
his  left  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  mounted  Rozinante, 
he  swore  a  reverential  oath,  that,  come  what  might, 
Mirandy  should  be  saved.  It  was  true  he  had  not 
been  well  treated,  either  by  the  Widder  or  Mirandy, 


142          DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  KOSA. 

he  told  himself  again,  yet— love  yer  enemies — he'd  heap 
coals  of  fire  on  their  heads,  and  do  them  good  for 
evil.  That  had  been  his  principle  in  life,  ever  since  he 
reformed.  Besides,  what  man  of  spirit  and  honor 
could  see  such  an  outrage  committed  and  not  intefere  ? 
Even  if  the  girl  were  a  stranger  to  him,  he  could  not 
do  less  than  shoot  the  villain,  and  restore  her  to  her 
weeping  family.  But  when  she  was  his  heart' s-ease — 
Mirandy !  Rejoice,  for  the  hour  is  at  hand  ! 

He  pulled  out  his  carbine  from  its  holster  under  his 
leg  to  see  if  it  was  all  right.  And  yet,  wasn't  shooting 
too  good  for  a  man  who  would  treat  a  woman  as  Bob 
Green  was  going  to  treat  Mirandy.  Shouldn't  he  be 
hanged  ?  Then  he  examined  the  raw-hide  lasso  that 
hung  from  his  saddle-horn,  in  painful  doubt  on  this 
question. 

He  would  intercept  the  party  at  the  Montezuma 
crossing,  he  told  himself,  and  show  Bob  Green  that 
there  was  one  man  of  honor  and  courage  still  left  in 
San  Miguel  County.  And  he'd  do  the  deed  single- 
handed;  perhaps  Mirandy  would  smile  upon  him  a  little 
for  that — perhaps  she'd — marry  him.  B'hold  th'  bride 
groom  cometh — perhaps.  His  head  grew  dizzy  at 
this  thought,  and  he  pushed  his  horse  into  a  hard 
gallop  and  rode  out  of  sight  of  the  ranch. 

When  the  sun  rose  that  morning,  it  lit  up  a  perfect 
day.  Here  and  there  on  the  rolling  mesas,  stood  a 
sentinel  cactus  or  pinion,  that  split  up  the  yellow 
light  into  long  lanes  that  lay  softly  on  the  lea.  As- 
the  day  grew  older  and  the  shadows  shorter,  one 
might  have  noticed  a  small,  cumulus  cloud  in  the  west, 
hanging  close  to  the  line  where  land  and  sky  joined. 


DOWN    LOS   TANOS.  143 

This  cloud  grew  larger  and  darker  as  it  sailed  up 
toward  the  zenith,  and  others  followed  it  until  the 
blue  was  hidden  behind  the  gray.  Then  swift  zig 
zag  streaks  of  gold  darted  from  one  part  of  the 
heaven  to  another,  and  dull,  rumbling  peals  of  thunder 
followed  the  flashes.  There  was  coming  a  storm  in 
April — an  extraordinary  occurrence  in  New  Mexico. 

Down  the  road  that  skirted  Los  Tanos  might  have 
been  seen  two  persons — a  man  and  woman — riding 
at  full  speed.  The  man  sat  bolt  upright  in  his  sad 
dle — a  perpendicular  line  from  his  shoulder  would 
have  touched  his  hip,  his  knee  and  his  heel, — and  he 
stuck  as  close  to  the  leather  as  if  he  had  been  tied 
there.  Beside  him  galloped  the  woman,  mounted 
upon  a  spirited  chestnut  mare,  which  she  rode  on  a 
side-saddle.  Upon  her  head  she  wore  a  huge,  white 
sombrero,  tied  tightly  under  her  chin,  and  from  be 
neath  this  her  hair  had  slipped  and  hung  in- masses 
down  her  back.  Her  riding-habit  was  a  long,  flowing 
skirt  of  some  dark  brown  material,  and  her  left 
foot — although  concealed  by  her  dress — carried  a 
spur,  with  which  she  now  and  then  urged  her  steed 
onward.  The  man  looked  anxiously  up  at  the  sky, 
and  turning  to  his  companion,  said : 

"  Can't  you  git  a  little  more  outen  the  mare,  Mir- 
andy  ?  We  must  git  across  the  Montezumy  bog  afore 
the  rain  comes,  if  we  want  to  git  married  this  year. 
Least  bit  o'  water  there  '11  make  the  rud  too  soft." 

"  I  don't  'low  I  kin  do  anythin'  better,  Bob,"  said 
Mirandy ;  "  still  I'll  try."  She  spurred  the  mustang 
again  and  again.  To  each  prick  of  the  steel  the  ani- 


144          DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

mal  responded  with  a  few  vicious  jumps,  then  settled 
back  again  into  the  lope. 

"  It's  no  use,  Bob,"  she  said  ;  "  I  can't  git  him 
outen  this  gait." 

"  Well,  we  must  take  our  chances  then,"  said  Bob. 
"  We  can't  turn  back  now ;  the  Widder  '11  be  after 
us  in  two  hours  with  a  possy." 

Before  them  stretched  the  low,  flat  expanse  of  the 
marsh,  extending  to  the  right  and  left  for  several 
miles.  To  look  at,  the  surface  of  the  bog  appeared 
to  be  a  hard  crust,  baked  dry  and  stiff,  and  covered 
with  a  white  coating  of  alkali,  through  which  grew 
no  manner  of  living  plant.  So  parched  had  the  land 
become  that  it  was  split  and  seamed  with  cracks,  that 
yawned  for  moisture.  Down  through  the  middle  of 
this  desert  flowed  the  sluggish  stream  that  came 
from  the  Montezuma  spring,  a  curious  natural  phe 
nomenon,  that  yielded  a  water  as  bitter  and  heavy  as 
that  of  the  Dead  Sea,  yet  strange  to  say,  nourished  a 
row  of  trees,  willow  and  pine,  with  here  and  there  a 
scaly,  narrow-chested  cypress,  that  grew  along  the 
edges  of  the  creek.  These  trees  were  the  only  green 
things  for  miles — the  land  elsewhere  presented  a  bare, 
desolate  appearance. 

Across  this  bog  there  was  a  faint  path,  which  could 
be  traversed  in  the  dry  season ;  but  once  let  the  crust 
become  wet,  and  it  turned  to  a  slimy  mud,  that  yielded 
to  the  weight  of  man  or  horse,  and  gripped  so  tightly 
what  it  seized  that  self-relief  was  impossible. 

Just  before  the  two  riders  reached  the  edge  of  the 
bog,  the  storm,  which  had  been  gathering  all  the 
morning,  suddenly  burst  upon  them.  Sharp  flashes  of 


ACROSS    THE    BOG.  145 

lightning  darted  from  one  black  cloud  to  another,  and 
loud,  rumbling  thunder  answered  the  flashes.  Then 
came  the  rain.  The  man  hurriedly  sprang  from  his 
horse,  and  untying  his  slicker,  which  he  had  carried 
tightly  bound  to  his  saddle,  wrapped  the  huge 
yellow  oil-cloth  coat  about  the  girl,  and  mounting 
again,  pulled  his  sombrero  down  over  his  face. 

"  Wai,  we  got  to  go  on,  Mirandy.  ~No  use  stoppin' 
here.  In  half  an  hour  the  creek  will  be  up  so's  we 
can't  cross  anyhow.  How's  your  mare  ?  Skittish, 
least  bit  ?  " 

"Wai,  yes,  special  when  there's  a  storm  like  this 
yere." 

"  Wai,  I  reckon  I'd  better  slip  a  hackamore  over 
her  head  an'  lead  her  then ;  jest  give  her  a  loose  rein 
an'  she'll  go  all  right." 

Thus  they  advanced  across  the  bog.  The  rain 
poured  down  in  sheets,  as  it  does  in  the  tropics.  The 
water  soon  obliterated  the  path,  and  the  dry  earth 
greedily  drank  up  the  moisture.  The  ground  grew 
softer  and  softer  every  moment.  Twice  Bob's  horse 
sank  to  the  knees,  and  once  the  mare  narrowly  escaped. 
But  at  length  they  reached  the  stream  that  flowed 
through  the  marsh  and  gave  it  its  name  It  was  per 
haps  fifty  feet  wide ;  shallow,  sluggish  and  evil-look 
ing,  with  rocky  banks  that  gave  refuge  to  innum 
erable  rattlesnakes  and  lizards.  Pausing  a  moment 
on  the  edge  to  assure  himself  that  his  companion  was 
all  right,  Bob  started  to  ride  into  the  creek. 

"Don't  you  f oiler  me,  Mirandy,"  he  said,  "till  I 
pull  on  th'  tug ;  this  bottom  's  nasty  long  here,  special 
since  this  rain  begun." 


146          DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

All  this  time  the  Don  had  been  concealed  in  ambush 
a  few  yards  off,  and  dripped  disconsolately  in  the  rain 
which  was  falling.  He  had  reached  his  present  posi 
tion  with  great  difficulty.  The  trail  across  the  bog 
was  quite  unknown  to  him,  and  he  had  been  obliged 
to  dismount  and  lead  his  horse.  The  storm  that 
followed  had  washed  out  his  tracks,  and  prevented 
those  who  came  after  from  suspecting  his  presence. 
He  was  too  far  away  to  hear  what  Bob  said  to  Mirandy, 
but  he  could  see  her  sad  face — her  eyes  seemed  big 
with  tears — and  her  long  brown  hair  that  hung  down 
her  back,  resting  in  wet  masses  on  the  yellow  slicker, 
gave  her  the  look  of  some  lovely  martyr  maiden,  in 
the  grasp  of  a  vicious  giant.  He  burned  to  distin 
guish  himself  ;  to  rescue  helpless  virginity  from  the 
power  of  the  monster.  Not  only  was  here  an  inno 
cent  female  being  carried  off  by  force,  but  she  was 
his  innamorata — the  Dulcinea  del  Tanos — whom  he 
had  so  long  worshiped,  silently  but  faithfully. 

He  watched  Bob  ride  into  the  stream ;  he  saw  his 
horse  lifted  off  its  feet  and  carried  down  by  the  flood 
current ;  he  saw  him  recover  a  foot-hold  again  ;  then  he 
heard  Bob  shout  to  Mirandy :  u  Go  back  !  go  back  !  " 
and  he  realized  that  the  horse  was  fast  in  the  bog — 
for  Bob  was  cutting  him  right  and  left  with  his  heavy 
riding-whip,  while  the  animal  was  churning  the  water 
into  suds  in  his  frantic  efforts  to  escape. 

Now  was  the  Don's  chance.  There  was  the  wicked 
monster,  helpless  to  harm  his  Dulcinea,  whilst  here 
was  he,  her  savior,  free  and  unfettered.  So  touching 
Kozinante  with  his  heel,  he  dashed  out  from  behind 
the  chapparal,  and  rode  straight  at  Mirandy.  She 


TO   THE   RESCUE.  147 

gave  a  little  scream  when  she  saw  him  coming ;  it  was 
not  like  Mirandy  to  indulge  in  such  a  feminine  weak 
ness,  but  just  then  her  nerves  were  quite  upset.  The 
Don  endeavored  to  reassure  her.  "  Fear  not  maiden — 
fly  with  me.  I  will  save  you,"  he  said,  and  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  her  bridle  rein. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  a  voice. 

The  Don  looked  up  and  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a 
shining  object,  that  seemed  suspended  in  the  air  with 
out  support,  like  the  coffin  of  Mahomet.  It  appeared 
to  occupy  space  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else, 
for  the  Don  could  see  nothing  beside  the  sinister  look 
ing  weapon,  except  the  more  sinister  eye  of  Bob,  that 
glistened  behind  it. 

He  saw  it  was  a  pistol,  and  although  he  showed  no 
emotion,  he  mentally  raved  at  his  own  rashness. 
He  had  stupidly  put  his  head  into  the  lion's  mouth  ; 
Bob  had  got  the  drop  on  him  with  a  45,  at  ten  yards. 
A  nice  predicament  truly,  for  one  who  wished  to 
appear  well  before  Mirandy. 

"  What  you  monkeyin'  'bout  here  fur  ?  "  asked  Bob 
sternly,  and  his  gray  eyes  looked  wicked  as  he 
snapped  out  his  words.  "  Put  yer  hands  up — put  'em 
up,  I  say !  " 

The  Don  reluctantly  obeyed.  It  was  a  most  hu 
miliating  position  for  a  knight  like  himself  to  be 
placed  in — just  as  he  was  about  to  rescue  his  own 
Dulcinea — but  what  could  he  do  ?  He  was  not  afraid, 
he  was  simply  yielding  to  circumstances — and  Bob's 
persuasive  air  and  six-shooter — when  he  raised  his 
hands  and  sat  there  on  Rozinante,  dripping  from 
every  angle. 


148         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  EOSA. 

Bob  studied  the  situation  a  moment.  "  What  hed 
we  better  do,  Mirandy  ?"  he  asked.  "I've  a  notion 
to  turn  my  45  loose  into  him — fur  mixin'  himself  up 
in  fam'ly  affairs.  How'd  he  get  here,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Better  get  outen  that  quag  first,  Bob,"  said 
Mirandy  with  great  good  sense ;  "  you  kin  shoot  him 
most  any  time." 

"  That's  'bout  so,  I  guess.  Look  here,  you,"  he  said 
to  the  Don,  "  what  you  hangin'  round  here  fur,  any 
how?" 

"  I  come  here  to  rescue  Innercence — from  a  villain, 
an'  to  have — Vengeance,"  said  the  Don,  with  an  effort, 
for  his  position,  with  his  hands  above  his  head,  was  a 
tiresome  as  well  as  a  ridiculous  one. 

"Haw!  haw!"  laughed  Bob,  hoarsely.  "You 
seem  to  be  doin'  it  in  great  shape.  None  o'  that !  Put 
'em  up !  "  he  added  sharply,  as  the  Don  lowered  his 
aching  arms  a  little. 

"  Wai,  you  are  a  tenderfoot,"  said  Mirandy,  look 
ing  at  him  scornfully.  "  Fust  place,  I  aint  innercent, 
an'  Bob  aint  a  villain.  We're  on  our  way  to  Santy 
Rosy  to  get  married  !  " 

Married !  The  Don  was  thunderstruck.  He  had 
not  expected  this.  It  was  not  an  abduction  but  an 
elopement  after  all.  Here  was  he  blocking  the  wheels 
of  Love's  chariot  when  he  believed  he  was  pushing 
them  out  of  the  Slough  of  Despond.  Mirandy  going 
to  marry  Bob  !  Then  she  could  no  longer  be  his  Dul- 
cinea  !  What  should  he  do  ?  At  first  he  trembled 
with  indecision  and  doubt,  but  in  a  moment,  like  the 
true  knight  he  was,  he  bowed  to  the  lady's  choice, 
and  saluted  her  gracefully.  Mirandy  watched  his 


THE    WAY    OUT. 

face  attentively,  and  as  he  bent  forward  in  obeisance,, 
said  : 

"  I  reckon  you  kin  put  up  your  gun,  Bob.  He's  all- 
solid,"  and  Bob  returned  his  pistol  to  its  holster. 

Then  the  Don  set  manfully  to  work  to  smooth  the- 
path  of  true  love,  which  thus  far  had  been  rough 
enough.  If  he  could  not  be  the  very  best  man,  he  would 
be  the  next  best,  and  he  hurriedly  untied  the  raw-hide 
lasso  that  hung  in  a  neat  coil  from  the  saddle-horn, 
just  in  front  of  his  right  knee.  All  this  time  Bob  had 
been  seated  on  his  mired  horse,  in  mid-stream,  quite 
powerless  to  help  himself  or  his  animal.  The  Don 
rode  to  the  edge  of  the  bank  and  said : 

u  I  cal'late  to  chuck  this  over  ye,  Bob,  and  git  ye 
outen  thar.  Look  out ! "  Bob  nodded  his  ac- 
quiesence. 

Very  deftly  the  Don  swung  the  loop  about  his  head, 
opening  it  at  each  turn  with  a  gentle  movement  of  his 
wrist ;  then,  when  it  had  acquired  just  the  right 
momentum  he  let  it  slip  from  his  hand.  It  went 
weaving  and  twisting  through  the  air,  and  settled  down 
over  Bob's  shoulders.  Taking  a  turn  of  the  free  end 
about  his  saddle-horn,  the  Don  backed  Rozinante 
away  from  the  stream,  and  in  another  second  Bob, 
wet  and  muddy,  stood  by  Mirandy's  side.  The  Don 
did  nothing  by  halves,  and  when  he  saw  Mirandy 
jump  to  the  ground  to  greet  her  lover,  he  discreetly 
turned  his  head,  and  endeavored,  though  ineffectu 
ally,  not  to  hear  the  sounding  smack  that  followed. 
That  little  matter  over,  once  more  he  swung  his 
lasso  and  once  more  it  shot  snakily  through  the 
air.  This  time  the  open  loop  dropped  over  the 


150         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

head  of  the  horse.  Now  the  Don  had  his  hands  full ; 
the  animal  reared  and  struggled  and  snorted,  but  the 
effect  of  the  strong,  steady  pull  was  apparent  in  time, 
and  at  last  the  horse  stood  upon  the  bank — muddy, 
trembling  and  weak. 

About  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  a  party  of  three 
rode  into  Santa  Rosa.  In  spite  of  their  wet  and  bedrag 
gled  appearance  it  was  plain  that  two  of  them  were  in 
excellent  spirits.  The  third  was  silent  and  preoccupied. 
The  rain  had  long  since  ceased  ;  the  warm  sun  had  dis 
persed  the  clouds,  and  the  blue  sky  was  without  a  spot 
or  speck.  The  party  rode  straight  to  the  little  adobe 
church — built  years  ago  by  an  over-sanguine  mission 
ary,  but  now  a  long  time  unoccupied.  It  stood  gable- 
end  to  the  plaza ;  its  ridge  ornamented  with  a  bell- 
tower  that  sheltered  a  voiceless  bell.  To  the  rail  in 
front  of  the  church  were  hitched  three  or  four  sad 
dled  ponies,  while  loitering  in  the  shade  were  as  many 
men,  dressed  in  their  best,  with  freshly  greased  boots 
and  clean-shaven  faces,  that  showed  white  by  contrast 
with  their  sun-burned  necks  and  foreheads. 

"  Well,  boys  !  here  we  be  !  "  cried  Bob  cheerfully, 
as  he  drew  up.  "  Everythin'  all  right,  Bill  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bill  Ransom,  as  he  stepped  up  and  lay 
ing  his  hand  on  Mirandy's  rein,  helped  her  to  dis 
mount.  "How  d'ye  do,  ma'am?  You're  lookin' 
well !" 

Then  noticing  the  Don  he  leaned  over  to  Bob  and 
whispered:  "  Good  Gawd !  Bob !  What's  that  ? 
Some  new  kind  of  fam'ly  ghost  ?  " 

"  He's  my  hated  rival,"  said  Bob  complacently ;  "  an' 
he's  goin'  to  give  the  bride  away,  owin'  to  the  un- 


MARRIED.  151 

avoidable  absence  of  her  mother."  Here  he  winked 
at  Bill  in  a  very  facetious  manner. 

"  Give  us  all  away,  you  mean,"  growled  Bill.  "  Looks 
's  if  he'd  bin  locoed,"  but  no  one  seemed  to  hear  him. 

"  Wai,  come  on  now,  boys,"  said  Bob,  as  he  gallant 
ly  tucked  Mirandy's  arm  through  his — "  Come  along  ! 
Less  get  this  little  exper'ment  over.  Is  the  Hon'able 
Justice  Parker  on  deck  an'  sober,  Bill  ?  " 

"The  Hon'able  Justice  Parker,  I  regret  to  say," 
said  Bill  slowly,  "  is  on  deck — remarkably  so — but 
far  from  sober.  He  attempted  to  clean  out  the 
' Maverick'  at  exactly  two  p.  m.,  an'  we  had  to  tie 
him  an'  put  him  to  bed,  where  he  now  is,  a  ravin' 
maniac  from  too  much  strong  drink." 

Bob  uttered  a  very  profane  ejaculation. 

"  Curse  him  !  I  give  him  five  dollars  in  advance 
'cause  he  promised  to  keep  straight  'till  after  the 
weddin',"  he  said.  "  What  we  goin'  to  do  ?  Tom 
Davis  an'  the  widder  '11  be  here  in  an  hour  with  a 
possy,  an'  I  want  to  git  married  'fore  they  come. 
There's  sure  to  be  a  fight  an'  I  want  to  leave  Mirandy 
all  right  in  case  I  git  hit." 

The  Don  stepped  forward.  "  If  you're  lookin'  fur 
some  one  to  marry  ye,"  he  said,  "  I  reckon  I  kin  help 
ye  out — do  good  fur  evil — as  I'm  qualified  to  that  ex 
tent,  hevin'  a  license  to  preach  an'  marry." 

It  was  a  very  short  ceremony  as  the  Don  perform 
ed  it,  and  he  brought  it  to  a  close  in  a  style  that  some 
of  the  guests  thought  a  little  abrupt.  "  Walk  ye  in 
the  narrer  rud — I  pronounce  ye  both  one  an'  the 
same." 


152          DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  ROSA. 

Indeed,  Bill  Ransom  was  much  dissatisfied  with 
the  whole  affair. 

"  Less  make  him  do  it  over  again,"  he  said  ;  "  'taint 
more'n  half  bindin'  as  'tis  now.  I  could've  done  it 
better  'n  that  m'self." 

But  Bob  would  not  hear  of  it. 

"  No,  siree  !  "  he  said;  "we're  married  an' thet's 
enough.  There's  no  double  or  quits  about  this.  I'm 
satisfied  if  Mirandy  is,"  and  Mirandy  said  she  was, 
entirely  so. 

u  An'  now  gen'lemen,  said  Bob,  a  few  moments 
later,  standing  in  front  of  the  Maverick  bar,  "  here's 
my  thanks  to  all,  an'  good-bye."  He  slowly  raised  his 
glass,  and  held  it  an  instant  between  his  eye  and  the 
light.  "  Mirandy  an'  I  cal'late  to  rid  over  to  Forty  de 
Luny  to-night ;  it's  only  twenty-five  mile  an'  we've 
borrowed  a  couple  o'  fresh  hosses,  an'  to-morrow  we'll 
go  on  up  to  my  place  on  th'  'Lupy  creek.  A  week 
from  to-day  we'll  hev  a  dance,  an'  you're  all  to  come. 
By  that  time  the  Widder  '11  be  all  solid,  I  reckon. 
I'm  sorter  glad  we  didn't  meet  her  to-day ;  she's  so 
devilish  sensitive  she'd  shot  some  one,  sure." 

As  Bob  and  Mirandy  rode  away,  they  were  sped  on 
their  journey  by  a  salute  from  a  dozen  revolvers. 
Bill  Ransom,  who  felt  that  he  occupied  the  position 
of  best  man,  was  determined  that  the  affair  should 
come  nothing  short  of  complete  success,  and  he  hur 
riedly  pulled  off  his  huge  riding-boot  and  threw  it 
after  them,  spur  and  all.  "  Not  hevin'  a  slipper,"  he 
said,  "  I  fired  my  boot — fur  luck — though  its  God's 
mercy  it  didn't  hit  'em." 


NEW    RESPONSIBILITIES.  153 

A  year  from  that  day  saw  very  few  changes  in 
San  Miguel  County.  The  Widder  and  Tom  had  long 
since  forgiven  Bob  and  Mirandy,  who  were  living 
quietly  at  Bob's  ranch  on  the  'Lupy  creek.  With 
what  Mirandy  had  brought  him,  added  to  his  own, 
Bob  found  himself  owner  of  350  cows,  which  made 
him  quite  a  man  of  property.  But  then,  there  was 
every  reason  why  he  should  be,  since  he  was  a  man 
of  family  also.  "  Yes,  sir ;  it's  a  boy,  just  as  certain  as 
the  world,"  he  had  announced  at  Santa  Eosa,  "but  he's 
redder  an'  softer'n  what  I  s'posed  babies  gen'rally 
was.  I'm  sorter  'fraid  to  touch  him,  fear  he'll  break 
in  two,  but  he's  a  healthy  breather." 

This  addition  to  his  responsibilities  made  Bob  more 
sedate  and  steady -going  than  before.  He  worked  hard, 
early  and  late,  and  his  only  play-time  was  at  night, 
when  he  took  his  seat  by  the  fire  and  watched  Mirandy 
and  the  baby.  "  Lord  !  it's  the  queerestest  thing,  to  set 
here  an'  see  you  dressin'  an'  undressin'  that  there  kid, 
Mirandy,  just  as  if  you'd  never  done  nothin'  else  all 
yer  life.  "Where  ever  you  larned  it,  I  can't  think  ; " 
and  Mirandy  would  look  up  at  Bob  and  smile,  but  not 
in  her  old  coquettish  way.  Another  expression,  more 
thoughtful  and  tender,  had  taken  its  place  now. 
She  was  still  the  same  buxom,  stalwart  Mirandy  she 
had  ever  been,  but  now  she  had  a  new  object  in  life  ; 
she  felt  that  new  responsibilities  required  new  man 
ners.  It  was  quite  a  picture  to  see  those  three — Mirandy 
seated  in  a  low  rocking-chair  before  the  huge,  open 
clay  fire-place,  filled  with  a  roaring  wood  fire,  with 
her  baby  on  her  lap,  and  Bob  by  her  side,  watching 
her  with  a  smile  of  gratified  pride,  as  she  fussed  and 


154         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  EOSA. 

cooed  over  the  boy.  "  It  beats  all,"  he  used  to  say, 
"  which  likes  it  the  best — you  or  him — or  me. " 

Sometimes  the  Don  would  ride  over  from  the  Bar- 
zee,  where  he  was  still  attached  as  cook,  and  spend  the 
evening.  His  regard  for  Mirandy  was  as  deep  as  ever, 
but  since  her  marriage  it  had  taken  a  different  form, 
being  now  more  of  a  paternal  nature,  for  he  had  come 
to  look  upon  her  almost  as  a  daughter. 

The  Don — he  was  still  known  by  that  name — had 
appropriated  the  empty  little  chapel  at  Santa  Eosa, 
wherein  Bob  and  Mirandy  had  been  married,  and 
every  Sunday  morning  during  the  winter,  he  had 
ridden  over  from  the  Barzee  ranch  and  preached 
there.  His  success  in  that  direction  had  been  no  bet 
ter  than  his  attempts  at  cooking,  but  he  was  not  cast- 
down,  and  persevered  faithfully.  "  San  Migell  is 
pretty  stony  ground,  but  it  aint  all  rock,"  he  would 
say  hopefully. 

The  new  spring  opened  promisingly.  The  price 
of  cattle  was  unusually  high ;  a  very  severe  winter  had 
raged  over  the  northern  ranges,  in  Dakota,  Montana 
and  Wyoming,  and  the  losses  among  the  cattle  there 
had  been  enormous,  in  some  instances  entire  herds  hav 
ing  died  from  cold  and  starvation.  The  stockmen  of 
San  Miguel  County  were  jubilant,  for  their  own  losses 
had  been  very  few,  the  Barzee  estimate  being  less  than  2 
per  cent. ;  and  this,  added  to  the  fact  that  three-year- 
old  steers  were  bringing  $30  and  likely  to  bring  $35, 
made  every  one  happy  and  prospectively  rich. 

With  the  return  of  spring,  as  in  former  years,  men 
started  out  over  the  range  on  preliminary  surveys,  in 
preparation  for  the  Round-up.  Thus  it  happened  that 


155 

Bob  left  Mirandy  and  the  baby  at  his  ranch  one  morn 
ing  and  rode  away.  He  had  kept  no  assistants  all 
winter  ;  he  did  his  own  work,  knowing  it  was  his  duty 
to  economize  for  his  family's  sake,  and  so  Mirandy  was 
left  alone,  but  neither  he  nor  she  were  troubled  about 
this .  Mirandy  was  quite  able  to  take  care  of  herself. 

The  next  afternoon  about  five  o'clock,  a  horseman 
rode  at  a  hard  gallop  over  the  prairie  towards  Bob's 
ranch,  and  checked  his  horse  in  front  of  the  door. 
Mirandy  stepped  out  to  see  who  it  was,  but  not  until 
she  had  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand  did  she  recog 
nize  the  Don.  "  Wai,  I  declar' !  "  she  said,  "  ef  taint 
you  !  Wont  ye  light  ?  "  but  the  Don  declined  the 
invitation,  rather  abruptly. 

u  Mirandy,"  he  said,  u  I  hearn  down  on  th'  Pecos 
that  there  was  a  band  of  Injuns  out  from  th'  Reserva 
tion,  loose,  and  — 

"  Injuns  !  "  cried  Mirandy  incredulously.  "  Why, 
there  aint  no  Injuns  within  two  hundred  mile  of  this 
yere  !  " 

"  Ef  you'd  seen  the  things  I've  seen,"  said  the  Don 
slowly,  "  you'd  say  there  was  Injuns  within  ten  mile 
of  this  yere — broke  out  of  th'  Mescalero  reservation — 
they  shot  at  Rube  Friday,  an'  they're  runnin'  off  stock 
an'  killin'  anyone  they  kin  ketch.  You  must  git  your 
baby  and  come  with  me  to  the  Barzee  till  this  thing's 
settled." 

Mirandy  demurred  at  first — she  warnt  afraid  of  no 
Injuns,  she  said — but  the  recollection  of  her  baby  de 
cided  her,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  riding  rapid 
ly  towards  the  Barzee,  twelve  miles  away.  Yery  ten 
derly  the  Don  carried  the  child,  wrapped  in  a  heavy 


156  DON    QUIXOTE    DE    SANTA    EOS  A. 

blanket,  while  Mirandy  rode  at  his  side,  her  eyes  con 
stantly  on  the  bundle.  As  they  reached  the  top  of  a 
mesa,  two  miles  from  their  destination,  they  paused,  a 
moment  to  breathe  their  horses.  Suddenly  the  Don 
noticed  a  commotion  in  a  bunch  of  cattle  behind  him  ; 
they  were  running  in  evident  alarm  ;  then  he  heard  a 
rifle  shot  and  then  another.  His  keen  little  eyes  in 
stantly  detected  the  cause  of  the  disturbance. 

"There  they  be!  Kide!  Mirandy,  ride!"  and 
away  they  dashed  down  the  hill.  Spur,  spur  and  spare 
not !  Ride,  ride — for  your  lives,  ride  !  They  had  a 
good  half  mile  the  start,  and  if  they  could  only  main 
tain  it  they  were  safe.  Mirandy's  horse  was  fresher 
and  speedier  than  the  Don's,  and  she  had  constantly  to 
slow  up  for*  him,  but  he  rode  steadily  along,  giving 
his  entire  attention  to  the  child.  And  yet  they  had  to 
ride  carefully  too,  for  if  a  horse  should  step  into  a  prai 
rie-dog's  hole,  or  even  stumble,  it  would  be  fatal.  On 
they  went  through  the  dust — their  pursuers  very  slow 
ly  gaining  on  them,  and  keeping  up  a  continued  firing. 
It  seemed  as  if  they  must  be  hit,  but  they  rode  on 
and  on,  never  swerving  nor  halting  a  moment.  Once 
a  rifle-ball  furrowed  the  rim  of  Mirandy's  sombrero  ; 
once  the  Don's  right  stirrup  was  splintered ;  but  still 
they  kept  on,  on,  on,  with  the  yelling  fiends  behind 
them. 

At  last  they  neared  the  ranch  (the  dusk  was  slowly 
turning  into  night)  and  once  there  they  were  safe,  for  it 
was  garrisoned  by  a  dozen  men — good  shots,  well 
armed  and  daring,  every  one.  As  they  dashed  along 
the  trail  they  came  to  a  place  where  it  forked ;  the 
main  track  ran  around  a  mesa  bluff  and  down  into  the 


OVEK   THE   BLUFF.  157 

valley  where  the  house  stood,  but  there  was  a  shorter 
path,  leading  straight  over  the  cliff,  down  which  it  was 
possible,  with  great  care,  to  lead  a  horse.  It  was  rocky 
and  steep,  there  being  a  straight  jump  of  five  feet  in 
one  place.  As  they  approached  the  fork,  the  Don 
motioned  Mirandy  to  take  this  path,  and  without  hes 
itation  she  rode  for  the  bluff  and  disappeared  over  the 
edge  with  the  Don  close  after.  How  they  ever  reached 
the  bottom  alive  is  still  a  mystery  in  the  county,  but 
they  did,  and  a  few  moments  later  pulled  up  in  front 
of  the  Barzee  ranch.  The  men  crowded  to  the  door — 
one  bearing  a  lantern — to  see  who  the  new  arrivals  were, 
and  to  learn  what  the  firing  had  been  about.  No  one 
suspected  then  that  the  Don  had  been  hit ;  he  still  bore 
the  baby  very  tenderly  on  his  left  arm,  while  with  his 
right  he  steadied  himself  by  the  saddle-horn.  It  was 
not  until  his  charge  had  been  transferred  to  Mirandy's 
<3are  that  he  reeled,  and  Rube  Friday  had  just  time  to 
catch  him  as  he  lurched  heavily  from  his  horse.  As 
they  laid  him  gently  on  the  ground  he  fainted,  and 
the  blood  welled  through  his  lips,  which  he  had  till 
then  kept  tightly  closed.  They  carried  him  into  the 
house  and  endeavored  to  staunch  the  blood,  but  it  was 
a  hopeless  case — he  had  been  shot  through  the  lung. 
It  was  a  solemn  scene  that  the  dim  rays  from  the 
smoky  lantern  lit  up  in  the  Barzee  ranch,  that  night. 
Around  the  dying  man  were  grouped  the  stern-faced 
riders,  while  at  his  head  knelt  Rube,  vainly  endeavor 
ing  to  force  some  stimulants  past  his  lips.  After 
a  little  he  revived  and  looked  about  him  on  the 
familiar  faces. 


158         DON  QUIXOTE  DE  SANTA  KOSA. 

"  Boys  !  "  he  said  very  faintly,  "  they're  safe,  Mi- 
randy  an'  th'  baby — deliver  me  from — mine  offences- 
— an' —  forgive — ' ' 

That's  all. 

One  of  the  men  turned  to  the  conch  where  the  baby 
lay.  "  He's  asleep  !  "  he  whispered.  "  So  is  the  Don,n 
said  Rube,  as  he  reverently  drew  the  rough  blanket, 
over  the  poor  old  fellow's  face. 


X.    THE  ASSAYER'S  STORY. 

I  am  the  assay er  of  Phoenix.  That  is  to  say,  I  was, 
for  Phoenix  no  longer  exists,  except  upon  a  map  of 
Colorado,  published  A.  D.  1876.  The  edition  is  out 
of  print  now,  but  I  have  a  copy  in  my  possession. 
Looking  at  it  I  can  see  that  PHCENIX  (in  capital  let 
ters)  lies  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  range 
of  the  great  Kocky  system.  That  is,  Phoenix  used  to  lie 
there,  for  as  I  said  before,  Phoenix  happens  to  be  dead 
now.  Whether  she  will  some  day  rise  from  her  ashes, 
somewhat  scattered  at  the-  present  moment,  and  prove 
herself  worthy  of  that  reputation  for  immortality  so 
long  connected  with  her  name,  I  can't  say.  On  the 
whole  I  hope  not.  For  Phoenix  dead  is  better  than 
Phoenix  living — that  is,  this  Phoenix  is.  Not  that  I 
bear  the  place  a  grudge,  for  I  do  not,  but  I  believe  I 
have  the  interest  of  mankind  at  heart  when  I  say  again 
— on  the  whole  I  hope  not. 

The  three  red  lines  radiating  from  Phoenix  (on  the 
map  of  Colorado,  1876)  represent  railroads — projected. 
The  three  lines  of  stakes  and  bench-marks  that  wind  and 
twist  up  through  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  mountains  rep 
resent  the  present  condition  of  the  aforesaid  railroads. 
They  died  a  bornin'.  During  the  heyday  of  its  brief 
existence,  Phoenix  dreamt  nights  and  worked  days  for 
railroad  communication  with  the  trunk  lines,  and  just 

(159) 


160 

as  everything  was  fixed,  Phoenix  passed  away,  leaving 
nothing  to  mark  its  grave  but  a  few  battered  sheds 
and  dump-heaps,  say  two  hundred  holes  in  the  ground, 
and  half  as  many  rough,  wooden  crosses,  rising  out  of 
the  western  mountain  slope — the  cemetery. 

I  am  sure  you  will  admit  that  Phoenix  had  a  most 
undesirable  location,  when  you  hear  that  it  was  eleven 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea ;  that  it  was  seventy  miles 
from  a  railroad,  from  civilization,  from  anywhere. 
Upon  three  sides  of  it  rose  the  stony  sides  of  the 
mountains,  while  the  fourth  was  guarded  by  a  per 
pendicular  wall  of  rock,  that  stood  a  thousand  feet 
straight  up  in  the  clear  air.  Sprinkled  here  and  there 
upon  the  steep  slopes  were  the  rough  shaft-houses  of 
the  mines,  and  cl'ose  to  them  were  conical  piles  of 
broken  rock — the  dump-heaps. 

The  state  of  affairs  in  Phoenix  may  be  best  described 
in  the  words  of  Justice  Shallow  to  Sir  John  Falstaff: 
"Barren,  barren,  barren ;  beggars  all,  Sir  John,  beg 
gars  all.  Marry,  good  air." 

The  only  desirable  thing  that  Phoenix  possessed  in 
exhaustless  quantities  was  good  air.  And  that  was 
often  of  such  an  unpleasant  temperature  as  to  render 
a  very  little  of  it  a  good  deal  to  much. 

When  I  first  saw  Phoenix  it  was  but  two  months 
old,  yet  claims  had  already  been  staked  out  there, 
which,  according  to  their  owner's  estimates — prov 
erbially  too  small,  contained  sufficient  treasures 
to  pay  the  debts  of  all  the  nations  in  the  world 
and  leave  a  handsome  surplus  for  contingent  ex 
penses.  The  main  thing  was  to  get  this  treasure 


WINTER    IN    PH03NIX.  161 

out — no  one  doubted  it  was  there — and  a  great  and 
glorious  future  was  predicted  for  the  camp. 

As  long  as  the  land  was  bare  of  snow,  Phoenix  could 
be  reached  by  a  hard  and  dangerous  ride,  but  during 
the  long  winter  months  of  that  altitude,  it  was  cut  off 
from  the  world  by  huge  white  barriers,  that  buried 
the  mountain  passes  deep  out  of  sight.  If  you  were 
to  object  to  Phoenix  as  a  residence  on  this  account  and 
say — in  the  hearing  of  one  of  her  citizens — that  it 
must  be  lonesome  living  there,  without  news  of  the 
rest  of  the  world,  the  aforesaid  citizen  would  prompt 
ly  reply  that  the  thing  was  just  even,  after  all,  for  the 
rest  of  the  world  then  had  no  news  of  Phoenix.  It  is 
this  magnificent  local  pride  that  makes  the  Westerner 
the  valuable  citizen  he  certainly  is. 

During  the  season  of  snow,  no  man  dared  travel  the 
mountain  paths  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo.  Avalanches 
raced  elephantine  games  of  tag  down  the  slopes ;  the 
wicked  winds  played  hide-and-seek  in  the  hollows  and 
canyons,  piling  up  the  snow  into  hills  and  digging  deep 
valleys  between  them,  until  the  face  of  the  land  was 
changed.  The  cold  was  so  bitter  that,  but  for  its  daz 
zling  light,  you  could  truly  believe  the  fires  of  the 
sun  were  extinguished  forever. 

Thus  it  happened  that  they  who  were  in  Phoenix 
when  the  first  snows  of  winter  came,  were  there — pro 
vided  they  had  not  come  to  an  untimely  end  mean 
while — when  the  spring  sun  had  loosed  the  clasp  that 
bound  the  white  mantle  over  the  breast  of  the  earth. 
It  was  a  motley  crowd  that  wintered  in  the  camp  its  first 
year,  and  in  it  were  found  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men — who  at  the  first  reports  of  the  discovery  of  the 


162 

mines  had  instantly  dropped  whatever  they  had  in 
in  hand,  whether  pen,  spade  or  spare  ace,  and 
started  for  the  camp.  And  among  the  thousand 
and  odd  was  the  undersigned,  John  Warner,  Mining 
Engineer.  An  unkind  Providence,  or  lack  of  funds 
— the  two  are  much  the  same,  after  all — detained  me 
there.  My  success  in  prospecting  during  the  fall  had 
been  very  poor.  I  had  not  then  learned  the  golden 
and  silvern  secret  of  mining,  namely,  to  let  some  one 
else  do  the  hard  work.  Thus,  instead  of  bettering  my 
condition  I  had  so  impaired  it  that  it  became  a  burn 
ing  and  a  freezing  question  with  me  how  I  should 
live,  for  provisions  were  scarce  and  dear,  and  I  was 
very  poor.  Just  when  I  was  mentally  comparing  the 
various  methods  of  suicide  with  involuntary,  slow 
starvation,  the  death  of  a  resident  of  the  camp,  gave  me 
the  chance  I  wanted.  The  Assayer  of  Phoenix,  Peter 
Ashe  by  name,  got  into  a  little  difficulty  with  a  miner, 
through  making  a  mistake  in  his  report  on  some  ores, 
and  the  position  of  assayer  became  vacant  in  conse 
quence. 

Mr.  Ashe,  in  his  professional  capacity,  had  sworn 
that  certain  specimens  from  a  certain  claim  assayed 
165  ounces  of  silver,  three  ounces  of  gold  and  21  per 
cent,  of  lead  to  the  ton,  and  largely  upon  the  strength 
of  this  report  the  mine  was  bonded  to  a  contemplat 
ing  purchaser  for  $20,000.  It  very  soon  turned  out 
that  the  mine  was  worthless,  and  the  unfortunate  pur 
chaser  obtained  a  meagre  satisfaction — at  sight — in  the 
usual  way.  At  the  informal  inquest  it  was  shown 
that  Mr.  Ashe  had  been  paid  $10,000  by  the  former 
owner  of  the  property,  coincidently  with  the  unfor- 


TfiE   ASSAY    OFFICE. 

tunate  error  in  his  report,  and  a  verdict  in  accordance 
with  the  testimony  was  rendered. 

In  consequence  of  Mr.  Ashe's  untimely  demise,  the 
camp  was  without  a  competent  assayer,  and  seizing 
the  chance,  I  stepped  into  the  vacant  position.  I  was- 
backed  by  several  influential  men,  Colonel  Crocker 
among  others.  The  Colonel  was  the  discoverer — by 
purchase — of  Phoenix,  and  had  an  extended  acquain 
tance  in  the  camp. 

"  You  jump  right  in  an'  take  the  outfit,"  he  said. 
"  I'll  back  you.  You  can  act  as  ex-e-cu-tor  of  the  un 
fortunate  diseased,  don't  you  see,  an'  do  your  assayin5" 
same  time." 

And  I  did  so. 

I  found  a  fairly  well  equipped  laboratory,  contain 
ing  a  muffle  furnace  in  tolerable  repair  ;  two  sets  of 
balances,  one  a  cheap  pair,  the  other  a  very  good  one 
by  Troemner ;  a  Supply  of  crucibles,  scorifiers,  cupels- 
and  all  the  other  apparatus  and  chemicals  necessary 
for  the  work.  The  assay  office  was  made  of  green y 
unplaned  boards,  battened  outside  with  cleats  and 
sheated  within  with  old  illustrated  newspapers,  princi 
pally  Police  Gazettes,  pasted  up  two  thick.  Although 
these  precautions  were  quite  ineffectual  to  keep  out 
the  cold,  the  pictures  gave  the  room  a  delightfully 
cosey  and  refined  appearance,  in  marked  contrast  to- 
the  other  houses  in  the  camp. 

Major  Oswald,  Colonel  Crocker's  partner,  was  never 
tired  of  studying  this  gallery  of  art  treasures.  He 
was  especially  pleased  with  one  full-page  picture,  rep 
resenting  "  The  Lynching  of  One-Eared  Mike  by  the 
Vigilantes  of  San  Juan."  Perhaps  his  interest  was- 


164 

partly  due  to  his  having  been  present  at  the  death  of 
the  aforesaid  Michael,  and  the  picture  therefore  re 
called  pleasant  memories.  The  engraving  was  fasten- 
•ed  to  the  wall  near  the  furnace,  just  where  the  glow 
from  the  fire  lit  it  up  to  great  advantage. 

"  To  look  at  that  picture,"  the  Major  would  remark, 
with  a  critical  squint  of  his  left  eye,  "  you'd  almost 
think  you  was  in  the  saloon  at  Paree,  durn  me  !  " 

Colonel  Crocker  was  best  pleased  with  a  full  length 
portrait  of  "  Mile.  Rosalba  Confetti,  premieure  dan- 
seuse,  as  she  appears  when  about  to  make  her  wonder 
ful  leap  for  life,  from  one  flying  trapeze  to  another," 
and  he  used  to  protest,  "  that  she  didn't  have  a  fair 
•show,  pasted  up  in  a  dark  corner,  where  the  light  was 
so  devilish  bad." 

"  Give  her  a  chance,"  he  would  say,  "  an'  she'll  get 
away  from  anythin'  in  her  line,  sure.  I  know  what 
I'm  talkin'  about  too,  for  I've  seen  every  first-class 
show  this  side  the  Missouri  river." 

My  house  was  a  low,  one-story  affair,  of  so  flimsy 
construction  that  when  the  wind  from  the  mountains 
swept  down  through  the  valley  it  used  "  to  rack  an' 
twist  an'  shake  to  its  very  roots,"  as  the  Major  said, 
in  humorous  reference  to  its  being  built  upon  stumps 
of  trees.  The  interior  was  divided  by  a  couple  of 
blankets  into  two  rooms,  the  front  being  the  laboratory 
and  office;  the  rear  "a  combination  libery,  settin'- 
room  and  boo-dore,  all  in  one,"  according  to  the 
•Colonel. 

I  had  plenty  of  work  to  do,  for  in  spite  of  the  severe 
winter,  the  mines  were  kept  open  and  operated.  They 
never  stop  digging  in  Colorado,  and  never  will, 


A    NEW    CLIENT.  165  , 

until  the  mountains  are  leveled  with  the  plains.  And 
even  then  they  won't,  for  they'll  set  out  to  make  some 
new  mountains.  When  that  time  comes,  I  shall  have  a 
suggestion  to  make — about  the  mountains. 

One  stormy  evening  in  January,  I  had  just  finished 
work  on  some  specimens  from  the  "Big  Six  "  mine, 
and  was  clearing  away  my  table  and  furnace,  when  the 
door  was  suddenly  opened,  and  there  was  blown  into 
the  room,  along  with  a  tremendous  gust  of  twenty- 
below-zero  atmosphere,  an  odd  figure  of  a  man. 

"  Evenin',  pardner,"  said  the  figure,  from  behind  a 
ragged,  worsted  muffler,  that  completely  hid  his  face 
and  disguised  his  voice.  He  backed  himself  up 
against  the  door  to  try  if  it  was  shut,  and  then  ad 
vanced  a  step  into  the  room.  "  Evenin'  pardner,"  he 
said  again.  "  Cussed  mean  weather,  aint  it  ?  " 

I  made  no  reply  to  this  other  than  a  nod  ;  the  state 
of  the  weather  was  so  obvious  it  didn't  need  any  more 
attention.  The  stranger  went  on  : 

"  You  don't  happen  to  know  now  if  the  ass-sayer  is 
about,  do  ye  ? " 

I  signified  that  I  was  acting  in  that  capacity,  just 
then. 

"  You  !  "  By  this  time  the  stranger  had  unwound 
the  wrapping  about  his  face— it  seemed  as  if  he  never 
would  get  unswathed — and  advancing  towards  the 
fire,  stood  with  outstretched  hands  before  the  glow 
ing  mouth  of  the  muffle.  He  was  a  short  and  plump 
little  old  man,  and  his  rosy  face  was  framed  by  a  rim 
of  yellowish- white  beard,  thickly  matted  by  icicles, 
frozen  there  by  the  cold,  mountain  winds.  He  wore 
a  frayed  and  tattered  buffalo-skin  coat,  from  which 


166 

the  fur  had  been  rubbed  in  huge  blisters.  Upon  his 
feet  were  enormous  cowhide  boots,  seemingly  all 
wrinkles,  while  his  head  was  ornamented  by  a  cap 
matching  his  coat. 

"  So  you're  th'  ass-sayer,  eh !  Wai,  I  dunno  but 
it's  all  right.  I'm  gettin'  so  nothin'  surprises  me  now- 
days.  I  want  to  see  you  on  partickler  an'  private  biz- 
ness." 

He  glanced  suspiciously  into  the  dark  corners  of  the 
room,  and  then,  cautiously  inserting  a  grimy  hand  into 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  drew  forth  a  small  piece  of 
stone.  He  touched  a  corner  of  it  to  his  tongue,  and 
holding  it  close  to  the  furnace,  so  that  the  light  should 
glance  upon  the  moistened  surface,  asked  with  an  air 
of  assumed  indifference : 

"  There  ass-sayer,  what  d'ye  call  that,  off-hand  ?  " 

I  told  him  I  thought  it  was  a  piece  of  rock— which 
it  most  undoubtedly  was,  and — 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  he  interrupted  impatiently,  "  I 
know  that,  but  what's  the  value  of  its  argentiferous 
contents !  Give  us  an  ass-say." 

He  handed  the  specimen  to  me,  and  I  went  to  work. 
The  steady  crunch,  crunch  of  the  ore-pulverizer,  as  I 
ground  the  rock  into  powder,  was  the  only  sound 
heard  except  the  whistling  of  the  wind  outside. 
While  I  worked  the  stranger  wandered  uneasily  about 
the  room,  as  if  in  search  of  something. 

"Cussed  mean  weather,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a 
dreary  poverty  of  conversational  resource.  "  I  dunno 
as  I  ever  see  it  much  worse,  an'  I've  seen  consid'able 
weather  too,  fust  an'  last." 


PROCESSES.  167 

I  made  no  attempt  to  answer  him,  nor  did  he  seem 
to  expect  it,  but  went  on  from  time  to  time  with  his 
monologue. 

"  Ores  runnin'  pretty  good  now  ?  "  he  asked  of  the 
furnace,  "  or  aint  ye  doin'  much  'count  of  snow?  I 
dunno  's  I  ever  see  just  such  a  winter  's  this  in  a  long 
time.  Come  to  think,  not  since  seventy-one." 

By  this  time  I  had  prepared  my  samples  for  the  fire  ; 
four  small  clay  scorifiers  were  duly  weighted  with 
proper  quantities  of  powdered  ore,  and  covered  with  a 
thin  coating  of  oxide  of  lead,  and  I  carried  them  to 
the  furnace.  The  old  man  watched  me  anxiously  as 
I  raised  the  cups,  one  by  one,  in  the  tongs,  and  pushed 
them  into  the  hot  muffle,  and  when  the  last  one  was 
safely  deposited  he  gave  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  allus  took  lots  of  amusement  in  ass-sayin,"  he 
said,  as  if  to  explain  his  interest ;  "  it's  so  cussed  scien 
tific.  I  kin  do  a  little  of  it  m'self,  off-hand,  as  fur 
as  gettin'  the  button  goes  an'  so  forth,  but  then  I 
weaken.  When  you  come  to  cipherin'  you've  got  me. 
Ought  turns  ought's  ought  an'  carry  ought  is  about  's 
fur  's  I  kin  go." 

The  ore  in  the  scorifiers  rapidly  melted  in  the  hot 
muffle,  and  at  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  the  first  step 
was  completed ;  the  rock  had  given  up  its  impurities 
to  the  oxide  of  lead,  and  there  was  left  only  a  small 
button  of  alloy,  containing  lead,  and  possibly  silver  and 
and  gold.  I  drew  out  the  scorifiers  from  the  furnace, 
and  the  old  man  observing  me  carefully  as  I  hammered 
the  round  balls  into  clean,  bright  cubes,  dropped 
them  into  little  white,  bone-ash  cupels,  and  put  them 
back  into  the  muffle. 


168 

"  It's  this  dog-gone-slap-me-on-the-back  familiarity 
with  science  that  gets  me,"  he  cried  enthusiastically. 
"  You  just  take  a  piece  of  ore — grind  her  up — stick 
her  in  the  fire  " — here  he  picked  up  one  of  the  red-hot 
scorifiers  to  illustrate,  and  instantly  dropped  it  with  a 
muttered,  "  Hottish,  aint  it !  " — "  an'  there  you  be. 
When  it's  cooked  you  pull  her  out,  weigh  her,  an' 
find,  may  be  there's  fifty  ounces  of  silver,  maybe  a 
hunderd,  or  may  be" — here  he  lowered  his  voice  to  a 
confidential  whisper  ; — "  maybe  there's  two  or  three 
hunderd ;  it  aint  unushill,  and  I  know  a  mine  that — " 

He  checked  himself,  and  looked  mysterious. 

Within  the  furnace  the  little  metallic  cubes  were 
soon  melted,  and  from  the  surface  of  the  fluid  there 
arose  red  vapors,  that  wavered  and  floated  in  the  hot 
space  of  the  muffle  ;  then  lazily  crawled  to  the  chim 
ney's  mouth  and  vanished.  Slowly  these  vapors  £rew 
less  ;  slowly  the  molten  metal  shrank,  until  at  last 
nothing  was  left  in  the  cupels  but  tiny,  glowing  beads, 
that  winked  and  twinkled  like  stars.  The  fire  test 
was  done,  and  these  little  specks  contained  all  the 
precious  metal  there  was  in  the  samples ;  the  baser 
elements  had  been  driven  off. 

Then  I  withdrew  the  cupels,  and  carefully  lifting  up 
the  little  beads  with  pincers,  took  them  to  the  light. 
They  were  very  tiny — hardly  visible,  but  they  were 
large  enough  to  suit  the  stranger. 

"  Oh,  maybe  not !  "  he  cried,  "  may-be  NOT  !  Per 
haps  th'  Old  Man  hasn't  struck  it  this  time  !  Oh  no  ! 
certainly  not !  " 

Accurately  weighing  the  beads  on  the  fine  balance, 
I  found  that  the  ore  contained  only  six  ounces  of 


THE    RESULT.  169 

silver  to  the  ton,  a  very  poor  quality  of  rock  indeed 
— for  Phoenix,  in  those  days.  But  the  old  man 
didn't  think  so. 

"That'll  do  for  a  beginin',"  he  said,  "  but  you 
wait  a  little.  You  let  me  get  into  th'  vein  a  ways,  an' 
I'll  show  ye  some  three  or  four  hunderd  ounce  rock, 
sure.  Just  now  you  was  sayin'  ores  was  runnin'  poor, 
wasn't  you  ?  I  guess  you'll  talk  t'other  side  soon  's  I 
git  th'  Mary  Ann  Billings — after  her — m'  wife  you 
know" — he  added  with  an  explanatory  wave  of  his 
hand — "  after  I  get  her  to  payin'  dividen's." 

Just  then  Colonel  Crocker  and  Major  Oswald  came 
in,  covered  with  snow,  and  filling  the  close  room  with 
the  cool,  fresh  odor  of  the  pure  air.  The  stranger 
stepped  briskly  forward,  and  with  a  polite  little  bow 
said  cheerfully: 

"  Ah,  Cornel !  good  evenin'!  Always  at  it,  you  see, 
always  at  it.  Just  havin'  a  little  ass-sayin'  done  now. 
I'd  like  to  make  you  acquainted  with  m'  friend  the 
ass-sayer.  Cornel,  the  ass-sayer — gen'lemen,  be  ac 
quainted  ! " 

The  Colonel  and  the  Major  bowed  gravely  to  the 
little  man,  and  he  bowed  and  smiled  back  at  them. 

"  My  name's  Elisha  R.  Billings,  you  know,"  he  said, 
u  but  most  every  one  in  th'  camp  calls  me  th'  Old  Man. 
Cussed  mean  weather,  aint  it  ?  I  dunno  's  I  ever  see 
a  wuss  winter  since  seventy-one,  an'  I  aint  sure  but  it's 
longer." 

The  old  man  monopolized  the  talk  that  evening. 
"  Speakin'  of  claims,"  he  said,  "  I  know  where  there's 
a  mine  that's  wuth — well,  I  dunno  's  I  can  say  ex 
actly  what  it  is  wuth — but  it  ass-says  way  up,  as  my 


170 

friend  the  ass-sayer  will  say,"  and  he  looked  at  me 
for  corroboration. 

He  resolutely  refused  to  tell  where  this  mine  was, 
but  he  had  it  all  snug  and  buttoned  up  tight  in  his 
vest  pocket — well,  slightly — he  should  think  so — oh 
certainly,  and  he  winked  with  an  expression  abso 
lutely  machiavelian,  and  repeated  "  Oh  certainly  ! " 
in  a  diminuendo,  until  his  voice  was  lost  in  the  laby 
rinth  of  his  beard.  He  bade  us  good-night  about  nine, 
and  with  a  cheerful  promise  to  call  again,  he  went  out 
into  the  darkness. 


Those  who  passed  that  winter  in  Phoenix  and  lived 
through  it,  will  not  soon  forget  their  experience. 
Never  before,  in  the  memory  of  the  oldest  miner  in 
the  camp,  had  the  snow  lain  so  deep  on  the  mountains  ; 
never  before  had  the  winds  been  so  cruel  or  the  cold 
so  bitter.  The  very  wild  beasts  came  down  out  of 
their  lairs,  and  sought  a  refuge  in  the  camp.  The  bar 
keeper  of  the  "  Poodle  Dog  "  one  morning  found  a 
wild-cat  behind  an  empty  barrel,  and  humanely  killed 
it,  "  rather  than  let  it  suffer."  For  days  at  a  time  no 
man  dared  leave  his  house,  lest  he  should  be  over 
whelmed  and  lost  in  the  snow.  The  valley  seemed 
to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  storms.  After  seventeen 
days  of  this  weather  in  February  there  came  a  lull, 
and  a  few  of  the  bolder  men  ventured  out  among  the 
hills  on  snow-shoes.  They  came  back  with  a  report 
that  the  ten  miners  who  had  been  working  the  Ava 
lanche  mine,  a  claim  up  Eagle  Gulch,  only  half  a  mile 
from  the  camp,  had  been  buried  in  a  slide,  and  were 


THE    FIRST    ASSISTANT.  171 

lying,  frozen  to  death,  beneath  hundreds  of  tons  of 
snow  and  ice.  It  was  impossible  to  find  their  bodies 
then  ;  the  spring  sun  alone  could  release  them. 

For  a  few  days  the  sky  was  blue,  the  sun  shone  and 
the  snow  sparkled  ;  then  the  storm-clouds  swept  down 
again  from  the  mountains,  and  the  wind,  the  snow  and 
the  cold  sported  in  wanton  merriment  about  us — 
"  a  savage  trinity,"  truly.  Day  after  day  the  white 
heaps  rose  higher  and  higher  in  the  one  street  of 
Phoenix,  and  men  had  to  labor  hard  to  keep  their 
dwellings  from  being  crushed  flat  under  the  tremen 
dous  pressure. 

I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell — if  you  were  to  ask  me — how 
It  was  brought  about,  but  in  a  very  little  time  after 
his  first  visit,  the  Old  Man  was  domiciled  in  my  house, 
and  acting  as  First  Assistant  Assayer  for  the  camp 
of  Phoenix.  To  this  day,  the  manner  in  which  he  in 
sinuated  himself  into  the  position  is  a  mystery  to  me. 
Perhaps  it  was  our  mutual  love  for  science ;  perhaps 
it  was  his  good-humor  and  optimism  that  won  me  over. 
At  all  events,  he  soon  became  as  much  a  part  of  the 
laboratory  as  the  furnace  itself.  He  was  by  no  means 
a  useless  article  either,  for  he  learned  to  tend  the  fire 
and  pulverize  the  ores  for  assaying,  very  skillfully.  He 
entered  into  this  latter  work  with  such  enthusiasm 
that  in  two  days  he  had  ground  up  every  bit  of  rock 
in  the  office,  including  some  very  choice  specimens  I 
intended  to  preserve  as  curiosities.  His  interest  in  his 
new  profession,  as  he  called  it,  was  great,  and  grew 
greater  every  day. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  he  said  one  day,  pausing  in  his 
work  at  the  pulverizer,  "  it  aint  so  difficult  bein'  an 


172 

ass-sayer,  after  all.  What  you  got  to  do  is  to  make 
your  reports  l)ig  enough.  If  you  find  the  ore  runs, 
say  30  ounces  to  the  ton,  why  write  her  down  35. 
That'll  tickle  the  miner,  an'  when  he  sells  his  ore  to 
the  smelter,  an'  they  on'y  pay  him  fur  thirty,  why  he 
wont  blame  you  ;  he'll  swear  the  smelter  is  cheatin* 
him  outen  his  hard  earnin's.  Then  he'll  git  you  to 
make  some  more  ass-says,  an'  so  forth — just  to  prove  he 
is  right.  If  you  work  the  cards  you  kin  git  lots  of 
bizness  that  away." 

The  Old  Man  had  not  been  living  with  me  three 
days  before  I  found  myself  admitted  to  a  "  full  and 
equal  pardnership  in  the  Mary  Ann  Billings  mine, 
with  all  her  dips,  spurs,  angles  and  sinuosities  as  afore 
said."  This  generous  act  on  his  part  was  due  partly 
to  the  feeling  of  friendship  he  had  for  me,  and  partly 
to  sheer  benevolence.  Half  was  as  good  as  all  to  him  ; 
the  Mary  Ann  was  too  valuable  a  property  for  one  man 
to  hold,  he  said.  This  cussed  concentration  of  capi 
tal  would  play  the  devil  with  the  body  politic  in  time, 
and  like  the  true  philosopher  he  was,  he  practiced 
what  he  preached.  I  am  not  a  man  of  lively  imagin 
ation — being  a  Mining  Engineer,  as  I've  told  you — 
and  I  have  had  much  experience  with  Holes-in-the- 
ground-mines,  that  never  paid  back  the  recording  fees 
to  their  owners  ;  but  the  enthusiasm  and  dead-sureness 
of  the  Old  Man,  took  me  clean  off  my  feet,  and  I  soon 
fell  into  line  with  him  in  cheering  for  the  Mary  Ann. 

And  still,  this  may  not  seem  so  strange  to  anyone 
who  has  been  among  the  silver  mines,  and  observed 
the  mad  stampedes  that  sometimes  take  place  there, 
when  hundreds  of  thinking  and  breathing  men  will 


173 

often  lose  their  self-control  and  commit  the  most  ab 
surd  follies,  just  because  some  one  else  does. 

So  it  happened  that  in  a  very  short  time,  I  be 
lieved  as  fully  in  the  Mary  Ann  as  the  Old  Man  him 
self,  and  though  I  never  visited  the  claim,  I  took  his 
reports  for  gospel,  and  even  caught  myself  enlarging 
on  them — a  little. 

"  Talk  about  your  mines,  Johnny,"  the  Old  Man 
would  say,  as  we  seated  ourselves  before  the  furnace  of 
an  evening,  "  there's  where  you  git  it.  I've  bin  in  this 
bizness  risin'  twenty  year,  an'  I  never  see  a  prettier 
prospec'  fur  a  reg'lar  teaser  than  the  Mary  Ann,  an' 
we're  th'  boys  to  prove  it." 

Twice  a  week  he  would  mysteriously  disappear  and 
return  at  dark,  tired  out,  but  triumphant.  "  I've  been 
lookin'  her  over,"  he  would  explain  ;  "  lookin'  after  her 
dips,  spurs,  angles  an'  so  forth,  an'  she's  all  there,  you 
bet." 

He  invariable  brought  back  samples  of  rock  which 
he  requested  me  to  analyze,  but  he  seemed  in  no  ways 
disconcerted  whenever  I  informed  him  that  they  con 
tained  no  silver,  as  was  generally  the  case.  On  the 
•contrary  he  appeared  to  be  amused. 

"  Silver !  "  he  would  exclaim.  "  Silver  in  them 
specimens !  I  should  rayther  say  not !  Them  stones" — 
here  he  would  point  his  finger  at  them  impressively — 
"  them  stones  aint  out  of  our  mine.  Well,  hardly  !  I 
just  brought  'em  in  fur  you  to  practice  on.  You 
don't  expect  to  find  native  silver  in  snow-drifts,  do 
you  ? " 

After  that  I  let  the  Old  Man  assay  his  own  samples. 


174: 

Besides  his  scientific  studies,  he  developed  a  fine 
appreciation  for  literature  and  art,  and  when  not  en 
gaged  in  his  professional  duties  spent  much  time  in  re 
viewing  the  pictures  that  constituted  the  wall-paper  of 
the  house.  He  always  read  the  letter-press  accompany 
ing  the  engravings,  but  with  some  difficulty,  and  could 
never  accurately  connect  the  two.  Thus,  he  would 
attentively  study  a  column  upon  "  The  Careless  Boy, 
Champion  Light- Weight  Slugger,"  and  endeavor  to 
fit  the  description  of  this  noted  pugilist  to  Mile.  Eos- 
alba  Confetti,  with  but  indifferent  success.  Her  por 
trait,  by  the  way,  had  a  never-ending  attraction  for 
him.  Still  he  did  not  accept  it  without  criticism. 

"  The  lady  looks  as  if  she'd  catch  cold,"  he  would 
say  musingly  ;  "it's  a  middlin'  light  outfit  she's  got  on  ;. 
wouldn't  do  fur  these  altitudes." 

How  much  more  elegant  was  that  than  the  Major's 
comment  on  the  same  subject.  "Rayther  leggy,  I  call 
it,"  was  what  he  said. 

Day  by  day  our  enthusiasm  over  the  mine  in 
creased,  and  we  longed  for  spring,  that  we  might  get 
to  work.  The  Old  Man's  graphic  description  of  the 
splendid  appearance  of  the  Mary  Ann,  her  extraor 
dinary  richness  and  quantity,  her  desirable  location,. 
"  just  where  you  can  slam  the  ore  out  on  a  gravity 
rud "  and  her  many  other  good  points,  completely 
carried  me  away,  and  made  me  dissatisfied  with  my 
humdrum  life  as  an  assayer.  The  samples  he  brought 
back,  too,  began  to  show  up  well,  according  to  his- 
assays.  Not  one  was  under  two  hundred  ounces, 
and  once  he  had  one,  which  he  told  me,  in  an  awe 
struck  whisper,  "  unless  I've  made  a  mistake  it's  a 


A   FAMINE   IN   CAMP.  175 

thousan'  an'  eight  ounces  of  silver  an'  seventeen 
of  gold.  Johnny,  we're  millionaires !  Less  take 
suthin' !  " 

Towards  the  middle  of  February  a  new  danger 
menaced  the  camp — famine.  An  insufficient  quan 
tity  of  supplies  had  been  laid  in  to  carry  us  through 
until  spring,  and  our  situation  became  alarming.  The 
price  of  provisions  rose  enormously.  Flour  was  three 
dollars  a  pound  and  only  to  be  had  by  favor.  Meat, 
except  a  little  tainted  sow-belly  pork,  was  a  delicacy 
quite  unknown,  and  as  for  tea,  coffee,  sugar  or  salt, 
they  were  never  even  thought  of.  Yet  all  this  time, 
the  saloons  kept  open  night  and  day  (there  seemed  to 
be  plenty  of  whiskey) ;  the  gambling  houses  were 
crowded  and  the  proprietors  made  independent  for 
tunes,  although  the  amount  of  money  in  circulation 
was  comparatively  small. 

As  February  drew  to  a  close  the  prospects  of  the 
camp  became  very  gloomy,  and  starvation  seemed 
near.  A  party  of  men  made  a  desperate  attempt  to 
escape  from  the  valley.  There  were  thirteen  in  all — 
an  unlucky  number  some  said — and  they  started  on 
snow-shoes  on  the  morning  of  the  26th.  Many  thought 
they  would  succeed,  as  they  were  active  and  hardy, 
and  knew  the  mountains  well.  Four  days  later  there 
crawled  into  camp,  on  hands  and  knees,  one  of 
the  band,  the  only  one  left  alive.  The  others  had 
been  caught  in  an  avalanche  and  smothered.  This  man 
— James  Russell — was  walking  in  the  rear  of  the  party 
at  the  time,  and  so  escaped,  and  managed  to  make  his 
way  back  to  Phoenix  after  enduring  terrible  suffering. 


1Y6 

Both  his  hands  and  his  feet  were  frozen,  and  he  died 
three  days  later. 

Just  as  we  had  eaten  the  last  pound  of  flour,  it  oc 
curred  to  some  one  that  the  barracks  of  three  of  the 
mines,  whose  men  had  been  killed  by  the  snow-slides, 
were  stocked  with  provisions ;  and  parties  were  at  once 
organized  to  dig  out  the  supplies  and  bring  them 
into  camp.  I  attended  the  sale  of  the  provisions  and 
purchased,  for  twenty-five  dollars,  a  venerable,  moth- 
eaten  looking  ham,  and  that  evening  the  Old  Man  and 
I  dined  like  princes. 

"  It's  a  trifle  dry,"  he  said,  "  but  then,  what  of  it  ? 
It. quenches  your  hunger.  If  we  on'y  had  the  ma 
terials  here  I  could  make  a  gay  little  Sally  Lunn  or 
floatin'  i-le-and,  but  then  we  aint,  so  what's  th'  odds  ? 
But  what  bothers  me  most  just  now  is,  how  we're  to 
git  our  ore  to  the  smelter.  It'll  cost  too  much  to 
pack  it  seventy  mile  on  burros  ;  still,  when  we're 
gittin'  five  and  six  hunderd  ounces  of  silver  outen  a 
ton  we  hadn't  orter  kick  very  much,  had  we  ?  An' 
then,  of  course,  we  can  put  in  a  con-centrator.  Still 
we  must  have  a  railrud  in  time.  Run  her  right  up 
Eagle  Gulch ;  it's  on'y  sixty  mile,  air  line,  to  the 
main  track,  an'  allowin'  ten  fur  angles  an'  sinuosities 
makes  seventy,  don't  it  ?  Just  check  me  up  when 
you  see  me  gittin'  off.  Well,  say  seventy  mile  at — 
we  can  do  it  for  a  hunderd  thousand  a  mile,  can't  we  ? 
Yes,  that'll  cover  it,  an'  that  makes  the  rud  cost  seven 
hunderd  thousand  !  What  ?  Oh  !  seven  million,  is  it  ? 
Well,  another  ought  or  two  is  all  the  same.  Well,  say 
seven  million  for  a  neat  little  rud  slap  up  to  the  camp.  I 
tell  you,  Johnny,  I  an'  you,  we'll  build  her  next  spring, 


177 

ship  our  ores  fur  nothin'  and  beat  the  other  boys  to 
death.  An'  when  they  want  to  buy  us  out,  maybe 
we'll  sell  an'  maybe  we  wont,  just  as  it  happens." 

The  next  morning  the  Old  Man  had  disappeared, 
and  with  him  had  gone  the  venerable  ham,  all  our 
provisions.  I  confess  it  was  in  no  pleasant  frame  of 
mind,  that  I  went  to  the  grocery-store  and  expended 
my  entire  capital  on  a  little  flour.  I  didn't  appreciate 
the  Old  Man's  eccentricities,  just  then. 

At  night  he  returned,  as  lively  and  chipper  as  ever. 

"Just  been  out  to  see  her,"  he  said,  as  he  took 
off  his  ragged  fur  coat.  "  Didn't  know  but  suthin' 
had  happened  to  her,  but  there  she  was,  snug  as  a 
reg'lar  old  bug  in  a  devilish  little  rug,  with  that  cute 
little  notice  just  stickin'  up  outen  th'  snow,  reciting 
to  wit,  how  I  the  undersigned  claim  so  an'  so.  I  tell 
you  Johnny,  I  was  relieved." 

But  just  then  the  question  of  rations  was  upper 
most  in  my  mind,  and  I  asked  him :  "  What  have 
you  done  with  that  ham  ?  "  in  much  the  same  tone  I 
would  have  accused  him  of  murder. 

"  Well  now,  Johnny,  I  'low  perhaps  that  wasn't 
quite  the  fair  thing,  my  takin'  the  ham,  but  poor  lit 
tle  Billy  Strong — you  know  Billy  ? — well,  he  was  just 
starvin'  to  death,  an'  sick,  an'  dead  broke,  an'  so — well, 
he's  got  the  ham,  an'  I  told  him  to  come  here,  now  an' 
then,  him  an'  his  family,  an'  git  suthin'  to  eat.  I 
know'd  you  wouldn't  mind  ;  you  can  just  charge  it  to 
me.  You  don't  mind  so  very  much,  now,  do  you 
Johnny  ? " 

Mind !  God  bless  the  little  man,  I  should  say  I 
didn't  mind,  and  I  liked  him  better  than  ever  then. 


178 

But  after  that  nothing  would  do  but  we  should  have  a 
regular  set  of  books. 

"  May  as  well  begin  right,"  he  said.  "  Our  bizness  is 
gittin'  so  large  an'  complicated  we  never  can  keep 
track  of  it."  And  so  I  took  an  old  note-book  in  which 
I  had  kept  a  record  of  my  assays,  and  wrote  at  the 
top  of  a  clean  page  :  "  Billings  and  Warner — Mary 
Ann  Mine,"  and  our  books  were  opened. 

"  Just  hold  it  into  the  light,  Johnny,  so's  I  can  see 
it,"  he  said.  "  There,  that's  it ;  neat,  ain't  it  ?  Bil 
lings  &  "Warner  !  Me  an'  you.  Joint  pardners  in  the 
Mary  Ann.  An'  now  write — Charge  Elisha  R.  Bil 
lings  one  partly-used  ham,  per  Billy  Strong,  debtor. 
If  I'm  dog-gone  fool  enough  to  fling  away  a  ham  like 
that,  why  make  me  pay  for  it,  that's  all.  The  mine'll 
stan'  it,  I  guess.  Git  it  down  in  writtin',  slick,  Johnny. 
Joint  pardners  in  the  Mary  Ann  !  Great,  isn't  it  ?  Less 
take  su'thin'  on  that." 

One  afternoon  the  Old  Man  stopped  me  at  my  work 
on  some  samples  for  the  "Not  Much"  mine,  (the 
name  was  singularly  prophetic,  not  only  of  the  mine, 
but  of  Phoenix  also),  and  said :  "  Johnny,  less  I 
an'  you  go  out  an'  look  her  over  to-day.  You  aint 
seen  her  yet,  an'  bein'  a  joint  pardner,  you'd  orter  git 
familiar  with  her  dips  an'  spurs." 

It  was  rather  late  when  we  started,  the  sun  set  early 
in  Phoenix  that  winter,  and  the  air  was  cold.  As  we 
proceeded  in  the  direction  the  Old  Man  said  the  claim 
lay,  we  came  to  a  ricketty  old  cabin,  half  buried  out  of 
sight  in  the  snow  Before  this  he  stopped. 

"  Johnny,"  he  said  appealingly,  "  you  don't  mind 
goin'  in  with  me,  do  you  ?  There's  a  sick  man  in 


WHERE    HIS    CHARITY    WAS    BESTOWED.  1791 

there,  I'd  r'ally  like  to  see  a  minute ;  he  aint  a  long 
ways  from  dyin',  I'm  afeared." 

The  shanty  was  a  wretched,  tumble-down  affair,  and 
through  its  splintered  walls  the  wind  and  snow  drifted 
unhindered.  We  put  aside  the  board  that  answered 
for  a  door  and  entered.  There  was  no  fire  in  the 
room  ;  in  one  corner  we  saw  the  form  of  a  man, 
buried  beneath  a  pile  of  tattered  blankets.  His  face 
was  thin,  terribly  thin  and  white,  and  except  for  his 
slow,  gasping  breathing,  he  seemed  to  be  dead.  Dying 
he  certainly  was.  But  what  surprised  me  most  wa& 
to  see  a  child,  not  over  ten  years  old  apparently,  from 
her  size,  though  a  woman  to  judge  from  her  pinched,, 
shrivelled  little  face.  She  was  dressed  in  an  old 
blanket,  through  which  a  hole  had  been  cut  for  her 
head  and  two  smaller  ones  for  her  arms.  A  piece  of 
rope  bound  the  folds  about  her  waist.  Yet  in  spite  of 
this  garment,  the  child  was  almost  frozen  with  the 
cold.  She  kept  her  place  by  the  head  of  the  sick  man, 
but  nodded  slightly  to  the  Old  Man  as  we  entered, 
He  was  visibly  affected  by  what  he  saw,  and  turning  to 
me,  said  with  a  trifling  shake  in  his  pleasant  voice : 

"  This  is  Bob  Strong,  ye  know ;  what  there  is  left  of 
him."  Then  to  the  little  girl :  "How  is  he  to- day r 
Nellie  ? " 

"Bad,  Mr.  Billings,  dreadful  bad.  We're  most 
starvin' — an'  I'm  so  hungry." 

The  tears  came  to  the  Old  Man's  eyes.  "  It's  toughr 
I  swear  it's  tough,  Johnny,"  he  said,  huskily.  "  Aint 
it  too  bad  that  everyone  aint  got  a  Mary  Ann  mine 
back  of  'em  ?  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  come  with 
me  an'  this  gen'lemen,  Nellie? " 


180  THE  ASSAYER'S  STORY. 

"Oh,  but  father!  "she  cried,  "he'll  soon  be  well 
when  the  warm  weather  comes." 

Yes,  before  the  warm  weather  should  come  he 
would  be  well,  for  as  we  stood  there,  a  fit  of  coughing 
seized  him  ;  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  tear  his  poor, 
worn  body  asunder ;  then  came  a  gush  of  blood  from 
his  mouth  ;  a  gasp  and  he  was  well,  indeed. 

No  more  pain  or  hunger  for  him  ;  no  more  trouble 
or  sorrow  ;  no  more  striving  after  what  he  could  never 
reach,  nor  regretting  what  was  past  recall.  Lucky, 
some  say.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I  hope  so ;  he 
never  had  any  luck  before. 

We  did  not  visit  the  Mary  Ann  that  day,  but  when 
the  shadows  of  the  mountains  had  veiled  the  snowy 
valley,  we  covered  up  the  body  of  Strong,  and  after 
the  Old  Man  had  spoken  a  short  prayer,  we  went  back 
to  camp,  with  Nellie  between  us. 

From  that  time  she  was  as  much  a  partner  in 
the  mine  as  the  Old  Man  or  I.  At  first  her  grief  was 
•excessive,  but  she  was  so  young  and  so  hopeful,  and 
the  Old  Man  devoted  himself  so  earnestly  to  her,  that 
in  a  little  while  she  became  as  merry  and  light-hearted 
as  himself.  This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  wrong 
done  the  child  in  bringing  her  to  a  mining  camp.  It  was 
&  cruel  thing  to  do — but  the  one  who  was  responsible 
for  it  was  buried  under  the  snow,  and  the  Old  Man, 
like  the  warm-hearted  old  grandfather  he  was,  took 
her  straight  to  his  heart,  and  saved  her  life  and  soul. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  find  in  Nellie  an  atten 
tive  listener,  and  he  would  hold  forth  to  her  by  the 
hour  on  the  inexhaustible  resources  of  the  Mary  Ann. 
His  favorite  position  was  with  his  back  to  the  furnace, 


RELAXATION.  181 

one  hand  in  his  pocket  and  the  other  swaying  to  em 
phasize  his  words. 

"  You  shell  ride  in  your  kerridge,  Nell,  an'  be  a  sure 
'nuff  lady,"  he  used  to  tell  this  ten-year-old  child  ,- 
"  you  shell  marry  a  prince  ;  live  in  a  gold  palace  and  be 
happy  forever  after.  But  never  forgit,  child,"  he- 
would  add  impressively,  "  that  you're  a  joint  pardner, 
an'  that  you  must  live  up  to  the  responsibilities  that 
the  position  kerries  with  it." 

When  the  Old  Man  grew  tired  of  being  serious,  he 
and  Nellie  would  indulge  in  a  little  blind-man's  buff 
in  the  office,  until  the  room  looked  as  if  an  elemental 
disturbance  had  been  traveling  that  way. 

"  Never  mind,  Johnny,  never  mind  !  "  he  would  say, 
with  the  utmost  good-nature,  if  I  found  fault  at  hav 
ing  my  cupels  broken  or  my  samples  scattered ;  "  charge 
it  to  the  Mary  Ann  ;  she  kin  stand  it.  It's  only  been 
a  couple  of  the  pardners  havin'  a  little  frolic." 

The  way  the  Old  Man  and  Nellie  made  things  in- 
the  cabin  jump  sometimes,  would  have  driven  a  nerv 
ous  man  frantic.  I  was  not  over-burdened  with  nerves 
at  that  time,  being  only  twenty-three,  still  I  must 
admit  that  once  or  twice  I  was  on  the  point  of  speak 
ing  out. 

The  number  of  miles  that  those  two  rode,  evenings,, 
over  the  Phoenix  and  Eagle  Gulch  Kailroad  (on  passes, 
the  Old  Man  being  the  engineer,  president  and  brake- 
man  of  the  corporation,  and  Nellie  the  conductor  and 
passengers  generally),  would  have  worn  out  any  ordin 
arily  constructed  road-bed.  The  furnace  was  a  capi 
tal  locomotive,  and  our  two  chairs  and  an  empty  bar 
rel  made  such  a  train  of  cars  you  couldn't  tell  them 


182 

* 

from  real — in  the  dark.  Sometimes,  as  general  man 
ager,  (also  riding  on  a  pass),  I  would  go  over  the  road 
on  a  tour  of  inspection,  and  then,  how  we  would  swing 
down  the  Gulch  to  the  Junction.  The  president  and 
engineer,  being  anxious  to  show  up  the  property,  would 
rattle  over  that  seventy  miles  at  a  hair-raising  speed, 
keeping  up  a  tremendous  whistling — through  an  old 
blow-pipe.  We  always  started  behind  time,  yet  never 
failed  to  make  a  good  connection  with  the  Denver 
Express,  and  after  the  run  was  over  the  engineer 
would  come  to  me,  and  taking  out  his  watch,  would 
say  :  "  There  sir,  how's  that  for  runnin'  ?  Seventy- 
one  mile  in  sixty-three  minutes  ?  "  And  then  I  would 
shake  hands  with  him,  and  ask  what  he'd  take,  and 
we'd  have  something  mixed  out  of  two  broken  crucibles, 
with  a  little  yellow  slag  in  the  bottom  for  lemon-peel : 
and  very  often  the  conductor  would  join  us. 

When  the  Colonel  or  the  Major  dropped  in,  they 
were  always  invited  to  ride,  and  the  Old  Man  presented 
them  with  perpetual  free-passes,  which  they  thank 
fully  accepted,  and  gravely  showed  to  the  conductor — 
Nellie — every  trip  they  made. 

Once,  in  going  around  a  sharp  curve,  the  baggage- 
car  (the  flour-barrel)  went  into  the  creek,  and  the 
brakeman  was  killed.  But  the  president,  who  was  on 
board,  was  luckily  unhurt,  and  soon  had  things 
straightened  out. 

One  night,  coming  down  the  grade  just  out  of 
Phoenix,  the  engineer  let  the  train  run  away  with  him, 
and  the  engine  (the  furnace)  was  upset.  For  a  few 
minutes  it  looked  as  if  the  entire  outfit,  including  the 
Assay  office  would  be  burned,  but  by  hard  work,  the 


BUSINESS    ACTIVITY.  183 

fire  was  extinguished,  and  the  damage  charged  to  the 
Old  Man,  on  the  partnership  books  of  Billings,  War 
ner  &  Co. 

I  never  saw  so  much  enthusiasm  as  the  Old  Man 
displayed  over  this  railroad.  At  first  it  even  sup 
planted  the  mine  in  his  affections,  but  after  a  while  he 
consolidated  them,  and  thus  relieved  himself  of  much 
extra  work.  Although  he  enjoyed  running  the  pas 
senger  trains  over  his  road,  he  became  absolutely  radi 
ant  when  he  backed  his  engine  up  to  a  line  of  flat-cars, 
loaded  with  ore  from  the  Mary  Ann  mine.  The 
number  of  pounds  of  pay-rock  he  thus  took  down  the 
mountains  was  millions.  I  figured  once  that  he  hauled 
to  the  smelter  that  winter  a  little  over  500,000  tons 
of  ore,  not  a  ton  running  under  $500,  as  he  positively 
assured  me,  making  a  total  valuation  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  million  dollars.  Not  altogether  a  bad  winter's 
work,  we  both  agreed,  even  allowing  but  half  of  it  as 
clear  profit,  not  to  mention  the  handsome  sum  the 
railroad  earned  us,  something  like  twenty  per  cent,  on 
its  cost. 

The  capacity  of  the  road  was  enormous.  The  Old 
Man  and  Nellie  would  often  take  down  five  trains  of 
cars  in  an  evening,  and  the  actual  running  time  was 
so  shortened  that  I  have  known  them  to  make  the 
whole  seventy-one  miles  in  a  shade  under  four  min 
utes  by  the  watch.  I  venture  to  say  there  is  not 
another  railroad  in  the  country  that  can  do  seventy- 
one  miles  in  a  shade  under  four  minutes,  night  after 
night,  without  an  accident. 

Thus  the  winter  wore  away  ;  our  lives  being  bright 
ened,  and  sweetened  I'm  sure,  by  Nellie's  presence  in 


184 

the  house.  She  had  a  lovely  disposition,  and  her  short 
contact  with  the  world  had  in  no  wise  hardened  her, 
though  she  was  sometimes  as  grandmotherly  in  her 
ways  as  the  Old  Man  was  grandfatherly  in  his. 

At  last  it  seemed  as  if  spring  had  really  come.  The 
warm  March  suns  broke  the  fetters  that  bound  the 
land,  and  the  streams  once  more  began  their  interrupt 
ed  labors  of  plowing  the  mountain's  face.  The  canyon 
of  Eagle  Creek  was  full  to  the  brim  with  a  rushing, 
roaring  torrent  of  water  and  snow  and  ice. 

The  air  was  mild  ;  the  cold  winds  had  been  tamed 
into  quiet  zephyrs.  The  barkeeper  of  the  Poodle- 
Dog  composed  a  song — both  words  and  music — upon 
the  season,  with  appropriate  local  hits,  that  was  en 
cored  three  times  at  the  Hall  of  Delight,  and  made 
his  reputation  in  a  night. 

The  camp  had  survived  the  winter,  and  every  one 
was  happy.  Then  the  Old  Man  began  to  get  restless. 

u  We  must  be  gittin'  to  work,  Johnny,"  he  said  one 
evening.  "  We  must  sure-ly  be  gittin'  to  bizness.  I 
reckon  I'll  mosey  out  to-morrow  to  look  at  her  again. 
Maybe  th'  notice  '11  want  fixin'  up  a  little.  You  kin 
clean  up  your  ass-sayin'  work ;  we  wont  do  any  more 
o'  that  for  any  but  Billings,  Warner  &  Co.,  joint  pard- 
ners  in  the  Mary  Ann.  That'll  keep  you  busy  an' 
more  too,  for  ass-sayin'  these  high-priced  ores  takes 
con'sid'able  cipherin'." 

The  morning  came  and  the  Old  Man  started  off  in 
high  spirits.  "  I'll  be  back  by  sundown,"  he  said,  as 
he  kissed  Nellie  good-bye  :  "  on'y  want  to  see  if  she's 
there.  This  has  been  such  a  cussed  mean  winter — I 


185 

dunno  's  I  ever  see  much  worse — I  want  to  look  her 
up.  Good-bye,  Nell !  So  long,  Johnny  !  "  and  away 
he  went,  smiling  and  happy. 

But  he  never  came  back.  The  spring  which  we  all 
thought  had  come  to  Phoenix  to  stay,  was  in  fact, 
only  coquetting  with  winter,  and  that  afternoon  ran 
down  the  mountain  to  the  valley,  chased  by  the  winds. 
The  storm  began,  as  all  mountain  storms  do,  with 
awful  unexpectedness,  and  the  winds  blew  and  the 
snow  fell,  and  in  a  few  hours  the  face  of  the  land  was 
white  again.  And  it  was  in  this  storm  that  the  Old 
Man  perished.  We  never  knew  exactly  how,  but  we 
believed  he  wandered  through  the  blinding  snow,  and 
fell  at  last,  into  the  roaring  hell  of  Eagle  Gulch. 

Late  that  summer  a  party  of  engineers,  surveying 
through  the  canyon  for  the  railroad  that  the  Old  Man 
had  himself  projected,  and  over  which  we  three  had 
taken  so  many  exciting  rides,  came  upon  a  skeleton, 
still  clothed  in  a  ragged  buffalo-skin  coat,  in  the  pockets 
of  which  were  found  some  specimens  of  quartz.  ~No 
one  doubted  for  a  moment  that  these  bones  were  the 
mortal  remains  of  the  Old  Man,  and  we  made  a  grave 
for  him  in  the  canyon,  at  the  foot  of  a  towering  spire 
of  rock,  that  formed  a  truly  noble  monument.  At  the 
foot  of  the  grave  we  put  up  a  rough  board,  with  this 
inscription : 

ELISHA  R.  BILLINGS, 

THE  OLD  MAN. 
DISCOVERER  OP  THE  MARY  ANN  MINE. 

Died  March,  187—. 
L 


186  THE  ASSAYER'S  STORY. 

That's  all ;  that's  my  story.  Not  much  of  a  story,  is 
it?  How's  that?  About  Nellie!  Oh,  she's  a 
woman  now.  Where  is  she  ?  Not  far  off,  I  should— 
Look  there !  see  that  boy  over  there,  trying  to  walk— 
isn't  he  a  baby  for  you?  Well,  that's  mine — and 
her's. 

What's  that  ?  About  the  Mary  Ann  mine  !  Why, 
to  be  sure  !  Well  there  never  was  any  mine  and  there 
never  had  been.  But  there— look  at  him  now — isn't 
he  a  baby  for  you  ? 


XI.    THE  LOG  OF  A  LANDSMAN. 

SATURDAY,  MARCH  27. — I  mentally  patted  myself  on 
the  back  and  drank  to  my  pleasant  voyage  as  the  Zea- 
landia  swung  away  from  her  dock  in  San  Francisco, 
and  slowly  turning  her  bow  down  the  bay,  steamed 
out  through  the  Golden  Gate.  It  was  a  perfect  day, 
warm  and  bright,  with  just  enough  wind  to  give  mo 
tion  to  the  water.  A  thin  haze  hung  over  the  land 
and  softened  the  rough  outlines  of  the  hills  that  rose 
up  from  the  edge  of  the  bay.  The  island  of  Alcatraz 
looked  misty  and  blue  in  the  afternoon  light,  and  the 
seals  that  were  sporting  in  the  harbor  stared  at  us  with 
an  indifference  born  of  long  familiarity,  as  we  sped 
by.  Through  the  Gate  we  went,  and  then  out  to  sea. 
A  breeze  from  the  north-east  was  tumbling  the  green 
waters  into  high  hills  of  foam,  and  blew  us  merrily 
south  on  our  course.  At  five  o'clock  we  lost  the  land 
and  were  bowling  along — thirteen  knots — in  fine  style. 
There  are  but  few  passengers  on  board  and  they  were 
all  present  at  dinner,  evidently  thinking,  "  Let  us  eat 
and  drink  for  to-morrow — it  may  be  impossible." 

Among  them  are  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
and — some  women.  There  is  the  Tarry  Yachtsman, 
who  wears  a  braided  jacket,  a  nautical  cap,  and  whiskers 
that  are  little  better  than  'airy  nothings.  He  carries 
oakum  in  his  pocket,  smells  unpleasantly  of  pitch,  and 

(187) 


188  THE    LOG    OF    A    LANDSMAN. 

talks  in  a  breezy  way  of  "  reef  points  ''  and  "  boom 
jiggers,"  that  is  particularly  refreshing.  He  has  given 
the  captain  many  useful  little  suggestions  about  the 
management  of  his  ship,  and  makes  me  feel  very 
thankful  he  is  on  board  to  advise  with  in  case  of  a 
storm. 

Then  there  is  the  man  who  is  "  never  seasick,  sir." 
Confound  him  !  what  business  has  such  a  person  to  go 
to  sea  ?  And  the  man  who  "  doesn't  know  whether  he 
will  be  sick  or  not,"  but  invariably  is.  (I  belong  in 
this  class.)  He  wears  a  mingled  look  of  Doubt  and 
Hope,  until  he  catches  sight  of  some  one  already  in  the 
throes,  when  with  an  "  I  too  have  been  at  Philippi  " 
expression,  he  rushes  hurriedly  away,  and  though  not 
seen  again,  is  heard. 

Then  there  is  the  young  man  who  thinks  going  to 
sea  is  "  nice ; "  who  calls  everything  delicious,  and 
whose  digestion  is  dubious  or  more.  And  the  elderly 
lady,  in  curls  and  spectacles,  who  has  never  been  to 
sea  before,  and  who  is  nervous  and  unhappy  now.  And 
the  newly  married  pair,  who  little  think  how  soon 
their  rapture  will  be  changed  to  woe.  And  the  two 
missionaries,  pale  but  determined,  who  are  manifestly 
too  thin  to  become  popular  with  the  Islanders.  And 
several  young  ladies,  in  charge  of  a  matronly  dame. 
They  are  delighted  with  everything,  and  exclaim  : 
u  Oh  !  "  at  short  intervals  during  the  voyage,  but  not 
always  from  joy. 

There  have  been  times  when  I  was  sick  at  sea,  but 
then  I  was  on  the  Atlantic.  That  such  a  misfortune 
could  happen  to  me  on  the  calm  Pacific,  I  believed 
impossible,  and  I  went  to  dinner  with  a  light  heart. 


THE    SECOND    DAY.  189 

Not  only  that,  but  at  nine  o'clock  I  sat  down  to  tiffin. 
In  the  night  the  winds  arose  in  their  might,  and  they 
smote  the  vessel,  and  she  did  roll  and  pitch  most 
dreadfully.  How  everything  creaked  and  groaned !  I 
did,  I  remember,  now. 

SUNDAY.  SECOND  DAY. — When  this  morning  came 
I  found  myself  somewhat  upset ;  the  thought  of  break 
fast  was  disquieting  to  me.  Last  night  was  a  rough 
one .  About  three  bells  I  heard  the  Tarry  Yachtsman 
— who  occupies  the  next  stateroom  to  mine — remark 
that  he  feared  the  ship  was  going  down.  I  was  glad 
to  hear  of  something  that  was  going  down  ;  it  was 
nothing  about  me.  All  doubts  as  to  whether  I  am  go 
ing  to  be  sick  or  not  are  .at  an  end.  I  am  simply 
dreadfully  ill.  Why  do  people  assure  you  that  it  will 
do  you  good,  and  why  does  the  man  who  never  is  sick 
look  into  your  stateroom  and  tell  you  to  "  go  it !  "  as 
if  you  were  doing  anything  else,  or  could  possibly  help 
"  going  it,"  for  any  worldly  gift  mentionable  ? 

I  know  of  nothing  more  prostrating  to  a  person  of 
nervous  temperament  than  to  have  to  put  on  his  own 
shoes  after  a  rough  night.  Your  land  lubber,  who  has 
never  been  to  sea,  may  tell  you  that  it  is  all  a  "matter 
of  will  "  ;  and  he  may  prove  to  you  very  logically,  that 
you  need  never  be  sick,  if  you  are  only  possessed  of 
sufficient  resolution  and  firmness.  All  I  say  is — let 
him  try  it !  The  will  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  mat 
ter,  or  if  it  has  then  the  brain  is  not  the  seat  of  the 
intelligence.  [Mem.  The  Pacific  is  misnamed  ;  it 
should  be  called  the  Terrific.]  My  state  room  is  at  the 
end  of  a  long  passage,  and  down  it  comes  the  sound  of 


190  THE    LOG    OF    A    LANDSMAN. 

much  distress.  The  steward  tells  me  that  the  Tarry 
Yachtsman  is  seriously  ill,  and  one  of  the  men  who  are 
"  never  sea-sick,  sir  ! "  (there  are  two  on  board)  is  in  a 
dangerous  condition.  My  only  remaining,  watery 
hope  is  that  they  will  both  die  ;  the  world  can  spare 
them.  I  begin  to  think  the  world  will  have  to  spare 
me.  With  infinite  labor  I  managed  to  get  up  on  deck 
this  afternoon  ;  how  I  did  it  I  cannot  quite  say  ;  I  am 
not  even  prepared  to  swear  I  did  do  so,  but  I  think  I 
did,  as  I  retain  a  lively  impression  of  seeing  many 
waves  and  much  water  in  a  state  of  disgusting  activity. 
I  also  have  an  idea  that  I  grossly  insulted  some  one,, 
and  that  he  was  only  restrained  by  force  from  knock 
ing  me  down.  I  wish  he  had  ;  I'd  have  turned  to  him 
the  other  also  with  pleasure. 

At  noon  we  were  in  Latitude  35°  41'  North  ;  Longi 
tude  126°  50'  West ;  distance  from  San  Francisco- 
233  miles.  x 

The  night  is  closing  in  black  and  stormy  ;  the  wind 
is  blowing  hard  from  the  north-west,  and  I  am  dis 
mally  sick.  I  wish  it  were  to-morrow  ! 

MONDAY.  THIRD  DAY.— It  is  to-morrow !  I  wish  it 
were  yesterday  !  For  I  am,  if  possible,  much  worse, 
oh,  very  much !  The  ship  is  rolling  her  rails  under, 
and  I  can  hear  the  Tarry  Yatchsman  exclaim  at  each 
dip  :  "  Oh  Lord  !  "  What  can  he  mean  ?  I  have 
passed  the  day  wearily  in  my  stateroom,  and  now  the 
darkness  has  shut  in  on  us  again.  As  I  lie  in  my 
berth,  tossed  this  way  and  that,  I  feel  a  wild,  at  time& 
an  irresistible,  impulse.  Can  this  be  death  ? 

TUESDAY.     FOURTH  DAY. — I  am   better  !     I  rejoice 


THE    FIFTH    DAY.  191 

that  it  is  to-day.  The  sea  once  more  looks  blue,  the 
sky  bright,  the  ship  gay.  I  now  think  I  shall  live.  I 
am  not  sure  of  it,  but  I  dare  to  hope.  I  am  still  un 
able  to  eat,  but  I  can  think  of  dinner  without  anguish. 
I  ventured  on  deck  during  the  afternoon.  How  grand 
the  sea  looked  and — how  dizzy  it  made  me !  It  was 
raining  hard,  but  it  was  rather  a  relief  to  get  wet ;  it 
diverted  my  mind.  I  was  doing  very  well  until  that 
insufferable  nuisance,  the  man  who  is  never  seasick, 
(the  other  is  not  expected  to  live,  thank  Heaven  ! ) 
recommended  me  to  try  a  little  bacon  and  molasses. 
Then  I  hurried  to  my  stateroom  and  had  a  relapse. 
I'll  have  that  man's  blood  if  I  live  through  this. 

WEDNESDAY.  FIFTH  DAY. — I  am  quite  well !  But  six 
passengers  were  present  at  breakfast  and  I  was  one  of 
them.  I  find  I  really  like  life  at  sea.  True,  it  is  mo 
notonous  and  very  unpleasant — at  first,  but  you  get 
used  to  all  that  in  time.  But  what  a  constitution 
Columbus  must  have  had  ! 

The  air  is  growing  perceptibly  warmer ;  the  officers 
are  all  dressed  in  white  duck  and  look  enviably  cool. 
A  rumor  circulated  through  the  ship  this  afternoon 
that  the  Tarry  Yachtsman  was  dead.  Investigation 
disclosed  the  fact  that  he  had  not  been  out  of  his  berth 
since  the  first  night,  and  that  he  was  still  breathing — 
but  that  was  all.  I  suppose  he  is  not  accustomed  to 
steamers,  and  the  vibrations  of  the  engines  disturb 
him.  He  is  only  used  to  a  ayot,  doncherknow  !  "  I 
feel  peculiarly  blood-thirsty  to-day  and  should  delight 
in  seeing  the  Innocents  slain.  The  Tarry  Yachtsman  is 
an  Innocent.  With  the  sinking  of  the  sun  the  wind 


192  THE    LOG    OF    A    LANDSMAN. 

arose   and   blew  hard  from  the   north-east.     I  never 
knew  such  a  place  as  this  is  for  wind ! 

THURSDAY.  SIXTH  DAY. — Last  night  was  very  rough 
and  the  ship  rolled  her  rails  under.  I  collapsed  again 
and  when  morning  came  I  was  so  occupied  with  other 
duties  that  I  quite  forgot  about  breakfast.  Some  one 
told  me  that  I  was  a  Jonah.  He  is  mistaken ;  I  am 
the  whale  ! 

By  noon,  however,  the  sea  went  down,  and  one  by 
one  the  passengers  reappeared.  I  was  shown  a  very 
interesting  contrivance  by  one  of  the  missionaries.  It 
was  a  preventive  or  cure  for  seasickness,  and  much  re 
sembled  the  popular  form  of  chest-protector  in  appear 
ance.  He  said  he  had  tried  it  on  the  bo's'n,  and  was 
gratified  at  its  entire  success.  Had  also  tried  it  on 
himself,  but  the  conditions  were  not  entirely  favorable, 
and  it  rather  aggravated  than  soothed.  Even  as  we 
were  talking,  he  would  leave  me  suddenly,  and  return, 
each  time  looking  paler  and  thinner.  Poor  fellow ! 

At  noon  we  were  in  Latitude  26°  2'  North  ;  Longi 
tude  1460  29'  West ;  distance  run  from  San  Francisco 
1,405  miles. 

All  the  afternoon  the  wind  was  light  from  the  north 
east  ;  the  sky  was  clear,  the  air  warm  and  the  sea  a 
deep  blue,  only  broken  here  and  there  by  the  white 
crest  of  some  lazy  wave,  urged  into  sluggish  motion 
by  the  soft  trade-winds.  The  passengers  have  nearly 
all  recovered  from  their  troubles,  and  are  sitting  around 
the  deck,  looking  very  cool  and  comfortable  in  their 
white  clothing.  What  a  pleasure  going  to  sea  would 
be  if  we  could  only  skip  the  first  three  days,  and  how 


BETTER    NOW.  193 

delightful  is  this  complete  freedom  from  all  responsi 
bility  that  one  feels  on  shipboard.  We  haven't  even 
to  think  about  living.  The  entire  charge  of  our  ex 
istence  is  taken  out  of  our  hands  and  given  into  the 
keeping  of  the  captain.  Our  duties  are  merely  to 
breathe  now  and  then,  and  to  eat  when  we  feel  that 
way.  And  then  again,  what  a  tremendous  satisfaction 
it  is  to  know  that  our  dinners  are  secured  and  settled 
on  us  until  the  voyage  is  ended  !  It  is  true  that  we 
may  not  care  to  eat  all  the  dinners  we  are  entitled 
to,  but  there  they  are — ours  on  demand.  It  is  like 
having  a  balance  at  the  bank. 

The  night  shuts  in  upon  us  very  quickly  when  the 
sun  drops  down  behind  the  sea  on  our  right ;  the  twi 
light  in  these  low  latitudes  is  very  brief,  but  we  hard 
ly  miss  the  daylight,  for  the  full  moon  more  than  re 
places  it,  and  sailing  o'er  summer  seas  is  very  pleasant, 
truly. 

The  air  is  soft  and  balmy,  but  laden  with  the  salt 
moisture  that  the  trade-wind  picks  up  in  its  long 
journey  across  the  ruffled  bosom  of  the  Pacific.  We 
do  not  dance  ;  that  requires  too  much  exertion,  but  we 
listen  approvingly  when  the  missionaries  sing  a  mild 
song,  or  watch  the  moonlight  as  it  sprinkles  over  the 
water  on  our  left. 

FRIDAY.  SEVENTH  DAY. — To-day  all  the  passengers 
are  out  except  the  Tarry  Yachtsman,  who  still  hovers 
over  a  watery  grave.  The  air  is  decidedly  warmer. 
I  went  down  into  the  fire-room,  but  could  stay  there 
only  a  few  minutes.  The  temperature  rose  to  160°  Far. 
whenever  the  furnace  doors  were  opened.  A  disciple 


194  THE    LOG    OF    A    LANDSMAN. 

of  Calvin  would  have  found  in  that  room  a  practical 
illustration  of  a  sinner's  hereafter. 

We  are  almost  within  the  tropical  zone.  We  have 
the  same  clear  sky  and  dark  blue  waters  that  we  had 
yesterday,  but  were  it  not  for  the  cool  trade-winds  we 
should  suffer  from  the  heat.  As  it  is,  our  only  en 
deavor  is  to  do  nothing.  We  sit  under  the  awning  on 
the  hurricane  deck  and  talk  in  a  listless  way,  or  are  silent 
even  more  listlessly.  We  look  out  upon  the  transparent 
sea  and  watch  a  school  of  flying  fish,  frightened  from 
the  water  by  our  ship,  and  see  them  go  scurrying 
away,  for  all  the  world  like  a  flock  of  birds.  Now  we 
discover  the  fin  of  some  huge  shark,  that  is  swimming 
doggedly  after  us.  Straight  down  we  gaze  and  "  nine 
fathoms  deep  "  behold,  in  fancy,  some  monster  of  the 
sultry  sea.  The  chambered  nautilus  floats  by,  and  for  a 
moment  we  exclaim  "  Oh  !  "  rapturously,  but  only  once. 
The  exertion  is  too  great,  even  for  this  beautiful  sight. 
Our  only  thought  is  to  be  idle  in  the  easiest  way, 
and  so  we  pass  the  day,  and  at  night  we  sit  in  the  moon 
light  and  listen  to  the  songs  of  the  sea.  One  sweet- 
voiced  soprano  sings  Ariel's  chant : 

"  Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies; 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made; 
Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes: 

Nothing  of  him  doth  fade, 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea  change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell: 

Ding-dong  ! 
Hark  !  now  I  hear  them, — Ding-dong,  bell  !  " 

And  in  answer  to  the  call  the  ship's  bell  sounds 
mournfully,  one-two-three-four. 


THE    EIGHTH    DAY.  195 

Then  the  stalwart,  red-faced  captain  growls  out  in 
his  deep,  hoarse  bass : 

"  Loud  roared  the  dreadful  thunder, 

The  rain  a  deluge  show'rs, 
The  clouds  were  rent  asunder, 

By  lightning's  vivid  powers. 
The  night  was  drear  and  dark, 
Our  poor  devoted  bark, 
Till  next  day  there  she  lay, 
In  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  O  !  " 

At  eight  bells  (midnight)  we  turn  in  and  dream  that 
the  Tropic  of  Cancer  has  suddenly  been  materialized 
and  stretches  like  a  chain  across  our  path,  and  we  can 
only  pass  by  going  under  or  over  it. 

SATURDAY.  EIGHTH  DAY. — The  dream  has  not  come 
true  ;  we  are  in  the  Tropics  ;  anyone  can  tell  you  that, 
for  it  is  very,  very  hot.  Our  thoughts  and  occupa 
tions  are  the  same  as  yesterday  ;  that  is,  we  think 
and  do  as  little  as  is  compatible  with  a  mundane,  or 
semi-amphibious  existence.  At  noon  we  were  in 
Latitude  21°  41'  North ;  Longitude  151°  21'  West ; 
distance  from  San  Francisco  2,021  miles.  It  is  too 
warm  to  write  more  now ;  besides,  there  is  nothing 
more  to  write. 

LATER — We  rapidly  neared  the  islands,  till  at  two- 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  sighted  Molokai,  and  at 
half  past  three,  Oahu,  upon  which  is  Honolulu,  rose 
to  view.  It  looked  very  rugged  and  picturesque  ;  it& 
black  volcanic  rocks  rising  straight  out  of  the  sea, 
which  dashed  itself  into  impotent  spray  against 
them. 


196  THE    LOG    OF   A   LANDSMAN. 

We  steamed  along  the  south-eastern  shore  of  Oahu 
all  the  afternoon,  and  at  eight  o'clock  reached  the 
mouth  of  Honolulu  harbor,  where  we  were  boarded 
by  the  pilot.  He  was  a  grievous  disappointment.  I 
expected  to  see  a  stalwart  native,  clothed  in  his  own 
unconscious  dignity  and  a  ring  in  his  nose,  come  out 
to  meet  us  in  an  immense  canoe,  rowed  by  twenty 
men,  similarly  dressed  with  the  exception  of  the 
dignity.  The  pilot  was  to  board  us  and  salute  the 
captain  with  a  stately  bow,  at  the  same  time  expres 
sing  a  hope,  in  pure  Sandwich,  that  he  was  well. 
Whereupon  the  captain  was  to  drop  upon  one  knee 
and  humbly  admit  that  he  was  well — or  at  any  rate 
so-so.  Then  the  stalwart  native  was  to  lift  him  to  his 
feet  and  say  :  "  Rise  up  my  faithful  servant — and 
let  her  come  starboard."  I  was  fully  prepared  to  hear 
that  this  native  was  no  other  that  the  king  himself,  or 
at  least  the  Prime  Minister.  But  how  was  I  dis 
appointed  !  For  the  pilot  was,  in  fact,  a  squatty 
white  man,  with  a  divil  of  a  brogue,  a  torn  shirt  and  a 
collar  in  the  wash — where  his  shirt  should  have  been 
and  he  along  with  it. 

With  this  fraud  in  charge  we  went  on  once  more. 
Out  of  the  darkness  on  all  sides  of  us,  we  could  hear 
voices  uttering  strange  sounds,  uncouth  and  harsh, 
and  now  and  then  a  canoe  would  be  visible.  After 
what  seemed  like  an  interminable  delay,  we  reached 
the  dock  and  landed  with  our  baggage.  Then,  stow 
ing  ourselves  in  a  vehicle,  driven  by  a  native  who 
said  he  spoke  English  (and  he  did — enough  to  beat  us 
out  of  five  times  the  proper  fare),  we  started  pell-mell 
for  the  Royal  Hawaiian  Hotel.  And  we  got  there, 


ASHORE.  19T 

though  how,  I  never  can  say.  Briggs  (he  is  the  one 
that  was  never  seasick,  and  very  nearly  died),  never 
looks  on  the  bright  side  of  anything,  and  he  found  fault 
because  we  were  upset  once  in  turning  a  sharp  corner — 
but  Briggs  wants  the  Earth,  I  think.  He  got  a  little 
of  it  that  time,  however — some  on  his  trousers  and 
some  in  his  mouth — yet  he  grumbled  still.  For  my 
part,  I  was  satisfied — I  fell  on  Briggs. 

At  ten  o'clock  we  drove  up  in  front  of  the  Hotel,, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  were  settled  in  large,  airy 
rooms,  cool  and  comfortable.  But  still  I  seemed  to  be 
on  shipboard,  for  the  floor  rose  and  fell,  and  the  mos 
quito  netting  looked  like  the  Zealandia's  jib. 


XII.    MOLOKAI-DEATH'S  VALLEY. 

uFor  my  part,"  said  the  Doctor,  as  he  poured  a 
little  water  into  his  claret ;  "  for  my  part  I  don't  think 
so.  You  say,  Jack,  that  Hawaii  is  as  near  Paradise  as 
you  expect  to  get.  Good — admit  that  it  is,  but 
what  does  that  prove  ?  Have  you  not  said  the  same 
thing  of  twenty  other  places  ?  Did  you  not  say  it  as 
you  floated  on  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  one  moonlight 
night  ?  Eh  !  Did  you  not  whisper  it  into  the  ear  of 
Donna  Dolores,  as  you  glided  in  a  gondola  down  the 
Grand  canal  in  Venice,  taking  care  the  while  not  to 
waken  the  duenna,  her  mother,  who  was  lending 
propriety  to  the  affair  ?  Eh  !  Did  you  not  say  it  one 
night  in  Cairo  ?  Or  one  midnight  at  Delmonico's  ? 
Come,  you  are  altogether  too  quickly  moved  Jack  ;  too 
easily  influenced  by  your  environment.  You  should 
have  been  a  poet  instead  of  a  rambler." 

It  was  true  what  the  Doctor  had  said ;  and  now  that 
I  have  cut  my  eye-teeth,  now  that  1  have  seen  the 
world,  the  flesh,  and  necessarily  therefore,  a  little  bit 
of  the  devil,  I  am  convinced  that  Delmonico's  is  not 
such  a  poor  substitute  for  an  urban  Paradise.  Take 
it  on  a  winter's  night  after  the  opera.  What  can  look 
more  like  a  conventional  and  highly  proper  Garden 
of  Eden  than  the  big  room  there  ?  Over  in  the  eastern 
corner  we  see  a  gay  young  fellow  sipping  his  Pom- 

(198) 


PARADISE   AND    HAWAII.  199 

mery,  tres  sec,  with  his  bediamonded  Dulcinea  by  his 
side.  He  stands  for  Adam  before  the  fall ;  she  for 
Eve,  and  mightily  she  looks  it — from  the  waist  up. 
Then  outside  is  the  poor  devil,  who  is  turning  a  discor 
dant  tune  out  of  a  wheezy  box,  and  freezing  to  death 
sixteen  hours  a  day  in  order  that  he  may  beg  enough 
to  warm  him  the  other  eight.  He  is  Adam  after  the 
fall.  If  you  want  to  see  his  Eve,  go— oh  !  go  any 
where  ;  you  can't  make  any  mistake,  God  knows,  about 
a  little  matter  of  that  sort. 

But  I  have  jumped  from  Hawaii  to  New  York. 

The  Doctor's  attack  upon  me  was  received  by  the 
others  with  a  laugh,  and  he  was  encouraged  to  go  on. 

"  You  say,"  he  continued,  "  because  you've  just  eaten 
a  capital  dinner" — the  Colonel,  our  host,  bowed — "  or 
because  your  conscience  is  not  troublesome — probably 
from  inanition — or  because  your  digestion  is  good  and 
your  purse  lined,  that  this  is  your  idea  of  Paradise. 
Good  !  Admit  that  this  is  like  it.  But  there  was  a 
serpent  hidden  in  Eden,  you  remember,  and  there  is 
a  serpent  in  Hawaii." 

"  I  thought  there  were  no  snakes  on  the  islands," 
said  Van  Baalen,  the  literal.  Yan  comes  from  New 
York,  and  otherwise  than  bemg  rich,  is  not  a  very  bad 
fellow. 

I  found  it  necessary  to  defend  myself  and  my  posi 
tion,  so  I  said : 

"  It  comes  pretty  near  my  idea  of  Adam's  sensa 
tions  to  be  awakened  in  the  morning  by  the  perfume 
of  orange  blossoms  stealing  into  the  room,  though  he 
must  have  been  quite  incapable  of  appreciating  the 
poetry  of  it,  since  he  had  nothing  to  contrast  Eden  with. 


200 

]S"o  !  I  still  maintain  that  Hawaii — as  I  have  seen  it 
— is  a  very  fair  modern  Paradise— with  rural  ac 
companiments.  I  have  found  no  serpent  here." 

"  And  still  I  don't  think  so,"  persisted  the  Doctor. 
"  Do  you  for  one  moment  believe  that  Adam  ever 
underwent  the  sorrows  of  breakfasting,  in  Eden? 
Don't  you  know  that  he  had  a  cup  of  chocolate  in  bed, 
and  never  dressed  for  the  day  before  eleven  ?  Com 
pare  his  system  with  the  Hawaiian  and  be  dumb. 
Here,  at  eight  o'clock,  you  order  what  you  please  of  a 
Chinaman,  who  doesn't  understand  you,  and  at  nine 
— as  he  hasn't  returned — you  look  him  up.  You  find 
him  asleep  under  a  palm  tree.  It  does  no  good  to 
kill  him — I've  tried  that,  and  find  it  really  delays 
matters — for  you  must  then  get  another  waiter  and 
begin  all  over  again.  There  is  so  much  red  tape  in 
Hawaii.  The  best  way  is  to  kick  the  fellow ;  thus 
soothing  your  own  spifits  and  stimulating  him  ;  con 
vincing  him  in  fact,  that  the  Chinese  must  go.  Don't 
you  see  your  error  now,  Jack  ?  Adam  never  had  any 
waiter  to  trifle  with  his  peace  of  mind." 

Here  the  Doctor  absent-mindedly  emptied  the  re 
mainder  of  the  claret  into  his  own  glass  and  filled  up 
mine  with  water.  "  What  I  meant  in  the  first  place," 
he  continued,  thoughtfully  watching  a  vortex  ring 
of  smoke  that  Yan  Baalen  had  puffed  out  over  the  table, 
"  was,  that  at  this  moment,  while  we  are  living  lives  of 
comfort,  enjoying  health  and  mental  ease,  surrounded 
by  a  tropical  profusion  of  flowers,  and  gazing  upon  a 
scene  of  absolutely  fairy  beauty,  yet  still  we  are  within 
striking  distance  of  this  serpent.  We — " 


AT     LAHAINA.  •  201 

"Let's  go  out  on  the  veranda,"  interrupted  the 
Colonel.  "  We  can  have  our  cigars  and  coffee  there 
where  it  is  cooler."  And  we  arose  and  went  out. 

"We  had  been  dining  with  the  Colonel,  the  owner  of 
a  vast  sugar  plantation  on  Maui,  one  of  the  Hawaiian 
or  Sandwich  Islands.  His  home  was  situated  on  the 
south-western  coast  of  the  island,  at  a  little  place  called 
Lahaina.  The  house  was  a  low,  one-story  building, 
with  wide  doors  and  windows ;  completely  encircled 
by  a  broad  piazza,  and  embowered  in  a  garden,  in  which 
grew,  with  wasteful  profusion,  all  manner  of  trees 
and  shrubs  ;  bananas,  oranges,  palms  and  huge-leaved, 
wide-spreading  exotics  of  the  southern  sea.  The  soft 
air,  stirred  by  the  trade-wind,  was  so  laden  with  the 
odors  of  the  rose,  gardenia,  hibiscus  and  oleander,  that 
it  seemed  to  have  the  consistency  of  some  rich  syrup, 
too  dense  to  be  breathable.  Five  of  us  sat  out  upon 
the  piazza  there,  the  Colonel,  the  Doctor,  Yan  Baalen, 
Kapana,  a  native  Hawaiian  Chief  or  Alii,  and  my 
self.  .  The  Colonel  usually  spent  a  few  months  of 
each  year  at  Lahaina,  and  with  him  he  brought  his 
wife  and  two  daughters,  just  grown  to  womanhood. 
He  was  a  portly,  white-haired,  red-cheeked  old  fellow, 
and  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice. 

The  Doctor  was  a  true  cosmopolite.  His  father  was 
French — whence  his  name  of  Lebrun ;  his  mother  was 
English.  He  was  born  in  London  city  ;  lived  the  first 
twenty  years  of  his  life  in  the  United  States,  and  only 
the  Lord  knows  where  after  that.  Or  rather,  only  the 
Lord  knows  where  not  after  that, — for  I  believe  he 
had  been  in  every  country  on  the  globe,  and  had  only 
been  prevented  from  exploring  space  through  lack  of 
M 


202  MOLOKAI — DEATH'S  VALLEY. 

the  necessary  means  of  locomotion.  He  had  been  a 
surgeon  in  the  Confederate  Navy  during  the  war  of 
the  rebellion  ;  attached  to  the  Garde  Mobile,  during 
the  Franco-Prussian  conflict ;  had  fought  with  the 
Turks  against  Russia,  and  been  in  charge  of  a  Bul 
garian  hospital,  during  the  little  difficulty  between  Bul 
garia  and  Servia.  And  now  he  had  come  to  Hawaii 
in  search  of  new  excitement,  after  having  just  returned 
from  an  expedition  to  the  Arctic  seas. 

Kapana  was  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  physical 
development  I  ever  saw.  Six  feet  two  he  stood ; 
weighing  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  yet  so  well 
proportioned  that  he  did  not  look  massive.  His  skin 
was  dark  ;  his  short  black  hair  curly,  but  not  kinky, 
and  his  face,  though  heavy,  was  not  ill-looking.  There 
were  a  certain  glitter  in  his  eye  and  a  heaviness  about 
his  brows  that  gave  him  an  appearance  of  sternness,  al 
most  ferocity,  contrasting  with  the  peculiarly  mourn 
ful  lines  of  his  mouth.  He  rarely  spoke,  but  smoked 
like  a  furnace. 

As  for  Yan  Baalen  and  myself — nothing.  We 
were  merely  travelers,  seeing  what  we  could  one  day 
and  forgetting  it  the  next. 

We  all  seated  ourselves  comfortably  upon  the  wide 
piazza,  where  we  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  white 
sea,  and  smoked  awhile  in  silence.  Within  the  house, 
around  a  dim  lamp,  sat  the  ladies ;  the  Colonel's  wife 
and  his  two  daughters,  and  two  native  wahine, 
handsome,  refined  women,  guests  of  our  hostess.  They 
were  playing  softly  on  guitars,  and  humming  mourn 
ful  Hawaiian  airs.  The  scene  was  absolutely  enchant 
ing.  Ulysses  could  never  have  deserted  Calypso  had 


THE    CUKSE    OF    HAWAII.  203 

she  dwelt  in  such  a  place  ;  Telemachus  would  have 
laughed  if  Mentor  had  urged  him  away  from  La- 
haina — at  the  full  of  the  moon.  Thus  was  I  thinking 
when  the  Colonel's  voice  roused  me. 

"  Suppose  you  tell  us,  Doctor,"  he  said,  "  what  is 
this  serpent  that  lurks  in  our  Paradise." 

"  In  two  words,"  the  Doctor  answered,  "  I  mean  the 
•curse  of  Leprosy." 

We  were  all  silent  again ;  we  did  not  even  move, 
but  I  could  see  the  cigar  that  Kapana  was  smoking 
glow  hot  in  the  darkness,  and  I  fancied  I  saw  his  glit 
tering  eyes  and  lion-like  brows  behind  it.  But  of 
course  that  was  my  fancy. 

"  There  is  no  cure  for  the  leper,"  the  Doctor  went 
on  slowly  ;  "  no  hope,  no  life.  He  is  one  of  God's 
accursed,  doomed  to  die  by  inches ;  avoided  by  men  ; 
feared  and  fearful.  For  even  under  the  lime-light 
of  nineteenth  century  investigation,  the  disease  re 
mains  what  it  has  been  for  thousands  of  years — a 
mystery.  And  it  is  this  curse,  lurking  in  the  green 
forests  of  Hawaii,  that  has  changed  it  from  Paradise 
to  a  plague-spot." 

"  But  how  is  the  disease  contracted  ?  "  asked  Yan 
Baalen.  "  You  medical  men  must  know  that." 

"  No,  not  even  that,"  said  the  Doctor.  Again  I  fan 
cied  I  saw  Kapana's  eyes  shining  through  the  darkness. 
"  It  is  not  contagious  or  infectious  as  those  terms  are 
generally  used  ;  neither  is  it  necessarily  hereditary.  It 
is  not  impossible  that  the  poison  may  be  carried  by 
mosquitoes,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  in  Elephantiasis." 

"  An  extremely  agreeable   theory,  upon  my  word," 


204 

said  Yan3  slapping  his  cheek  ;  "  there  goes  one  of  the 
little  beggars  now." 

"  The  inorganic  world  is  a  perfect  world,"  went  on 
the  Doctor,  not  noticing  the  interruption.  "  So  many 
parts  of  hydrogen  and  oxygen  combined  always  make 
water  ;  so  many  parts  of  chlorine  and  sodium  always 
make  salt.  We  know  to  a  surety  that  certain  results 
are  invariably  produced  by  certain  causes.  The  laws  of 
the  inorganic  world  are  immutable.  But  in  the  organic 
everything  is  uncertain ;  there  we  can  be  sure  of 
nothing  except  Death,  which  really  means  the  resolu 
tion  of  organism  back  to  its  inorganic  elements.  You 
introduce  a  grain  of  arsenic  into  a  gallon  of  water, 
and  that  arsenic  is  always  detectable.  You  introduce 
a  poison  into  the  circulation  of  an  animal,  and  it  may 
or  may  not  be  discoverable.  Leprosy  is  caused  by  the 
inoculation  of  an  active  animal  poison  into  a  man's 
blood.  This  poison  will  generate  the  disease  in  one 
person  and  not  in  another.  Leprous  parents  may  have 
all  their  children  tainted,  or  only  one  or  two,  or  even 
none  at  all.  This  may  happen  when  only  the  father 
or  the  mother  is  affected,  but  transmission  through 
the  mother  is  more  constant.  Again,  the  disease  may 
skip  several  generations  and  reappear  when  the 
memory  of  it  has  been  forgotten.  The  circumstances 
that  seem  particularly  to  favor  its  extension  are  a  damp 
and  humid  atmosphere,  and  a  diet  consisting  largely 
of  fish.  All  these  conditions  exist  in  Hawaii,  where 
the  warm  air  is  laden  with  moisture  and  where  the 
natives  subsist  mainly  upon  poi,  fruit,  and  sea-food." 

The  Doctor  paused  a  moment ;  then,  seeing  the  look 
of  eager  attention  on  the  faces  of  Yan  and  myself,  and 


HOPELESS   HAWAII.  205 

being  thus  assured  of  at  least  two  hearers,  he  went  on 
with  his  monologue. 

"  Leprosy  is  identified  with  the  disease  known  along 
the  Nile  and  its  Delta  1,500  B.  C.,  and  the  disease 
common  to-day  in  Asia,  Africa,  South  America,  West 
Indies,  parts  of  Europe  and  Hawaii.  It  was  endemic 
with  the  Jews  at  the  time  of  their  exodus  from  Egypt, 
as  you  may  see  by  reading  Leviticus  xiii,  and  was 
prevalent  for  hundreds  of  years  after,  as  any  of  the 
books  of  the  New  Testament  will  tell  you." 

"  Is  there  no  hope  for  Hawaii  ? "  said  a  voice  be 
hind  a  glowing  cigar  tip.  "  Can  the  disease  never  be 
eradicated  ? " 

"  Never,  I  believe,"  answered  the  Doctor,  "  short  of 
the  practical  extermination  of  the  native  race,  and 
that,  at  the  present  rate,  will  soon  be  completed ; 
perhaps  by  the  end  of  this  century.  When  Captain 
Cook  discovered  these  islands,  about  a  hundred  years 
ago,  he  estimated  the  population  at  400,000  ;  to-day 
the  natives  number  less  than  40,000.  Possibly  this 
fearful  death-rate  is  what  Herbert  Spencer  calls,  i  one 
of  the  mild  and  beneficient  results  of  civilization,'  r 
added  the  Doctor,  grimly,  "  but  it  doesn't  strike 
me  so." 

I  was  right  about  it :  I  could  see  shining  out  of  the 
darkness  the  face  of  Kapana,  glowing  with  a  dull 
phosphorescence  that  disclosed  his  massive  brows,  under 
which  his  glassy  eyes  glistened  strangely.  I  rubbed 
my  own  eyes  once  or  twice,  thinking  that  I  did  not 
see  clearly  ;  I  pinched  myself  to  make  sure  I  did  not 
dream.  But  I  was  awake  and  I  was  not  mistaken.  It 
was  curious  the  others  did  not  see  it. 


206 

"  I  must  say,  Doctor,"  said  the  Colonel,  "you  have 
not  chosen  a  very  agreeable  topic  to  discuss  on  such 
a  night  as  this.  I  am  used  to  this  sort  o'  thing,  but  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  sitting  alongside  of  an  actual  leper, 
b'Gad,  I  do  !  Ho,  Puna  !  bring  us  some  more  cham 
pagne  !  Champagne  is  a  good  preventive,  isn't  it 
Doctor  ?" 

The  Doctor  laughed  softly.  "  There  is  no  preven 
tive  but  to  keep  away  from  the  infection,  but  cham 
pagne  isn't  a  bad  thing  to  try,"  he  said.  "  The  disease 
does  not  generate  spontaneously  but  spreads  by  the 

bacillus  of but  here  comes   the  ladies;   let  u& 

change  the  subject,"  and  out  upon  the  broad  piazza 
they  stepped. 

"  Didn't  I  hear  you  calling  for  more  champagne, 
papa?"  said  Louise,  the  younger  daughter.  "You 
have  had  quite  enough,  sir,  for  your  good,  and  at  this 
time  of  night,  too." 

"  Well,  you  know,  Lou,"  said  her  father, "  the  Doctor 
has  been  saying  such  unpleasant  things  I  just  wanted 
to  take  the  bad  taste  out  of  my  mouth." 

By  this  time  the  ladies  were  seated.  They  were 
dressed  in  rustling  gowns  of  white — dresses  that 
would  have  rivalled  many  worn  at  the  Italian  Opera 
in  Paris,  or  at  a  ball  in  the  Faubourg  Kue  St.  Honore  ; 
and  out  into  the  warm,  sensuous  night,  as  they  came, 
the  frou-frou  of  the  fabrics  tinkling  in  our  ears,  the 
sight  of  so  much  loveliness,  carried  me  from  the  Purga 
tory  whither  the  Doctor  had  led  us,  to  the  Eden  where 
I  would  be.  The  ladies  grouped  themselves  together 
where  the  light  from  the  room  within  fell  faintly 
upon  them,  and  was  reflected  back  again  by  their 


THE    ENVIRONMENT.  207 

white  shoulders  and  arms.  Talk  not  to  me  of  the 
pleasures  of  gratified  ambition — greed — revenge.  Old 
campaigner  though  I  am,  I  still  believe  there  is  no 
joy  so  great  as  the  tender  sorrow  of  loving,  and  while 
I  was  long  past  that  sort  of  thing,  I  could  feel  for  Yan 
Baalen,  that  night  at  Lahaina,  when  he  whispered  : 
"  By  Jove,  Jack  !  this  is  Paradise  Regained,  serpent 
or  no  serpent." 

For  I  do  not  see  how  one  could  help  feeling  senti 
mental  there ;  the  moon  had  at  last  forced  a  zig-zag 
hole  through  the  green  roof  over  us,  and  the  white 
dresses  and  forms  of  the  ladies  stood  out  in  superb 
relief,  like  negative  silhouettes,  against  the  dark  back 
ground  of  the  tropical  foliage.  About  their  necks 
they  wore  leis  of  ohias  and  gardenias,  and  in  their 
hair,  roses.  Behind  them,  in  the  shadow,  sat  Kapana. 

Yan,  inspired  by  the  place  and  the  hour,  sprang  to 
his  feet,  and  addressing  the  moon-lit  sea — and  Louise 
— recited  the  sonorous  lines  of  Lorenzo  : 

' '  In  such  a  night 

Troilus,  methinks,  mounted  the  Trojan  walls, 
And  sighed  his  soul  toward  the  Grecian  tents, 
Where  Cressid  lay  that  night. 

In  such  a  night 

Stood  Dido  with  a  willow  in  her  hand 
Upon  the  wild  sea- banks,  and  waft  her  love 
To  come  again  to  Carthage." 

The  ladies  applauded  him. 

"  What  were  you  talking  about  as  we  came  out  ? " 
one  of  them  asked. 

"  Comparing  our  present  position  with  that  of  Adam 
and  Eve,"  said  the  Doctor. 


208  MOLOKAI — DEATH'S  VALLEY. 

"  And  which  did  you  decide  was  the  pleasanter  ?  " 
asked  Marjorie. 

"  Oh !  our  own  is  decidedly  better,"  said  the  Doctor. 
u  Adam  and  Eve  had  no  father  or  mother  to  begin 
with  ;  they  knew  not  the  flavor  of  Pommery  sec,  with 
just  enough  ice  in  it" — here  the  Doctor  sipped  a  little 
from  his  glass — "  they  had  nothing  to  gossip  about, 
and  although  they  ruled  supreme  on  earth  they  were 
not  even  well  dressed." 

Louise  modestly  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  diamond 
locket  that  hung  from  the  lei  about  her  round  white 
neck,  but  the  others  laughed  merrily.  Our  hostess 
screened  a  yawn  behind  her  fan  ;  this  was  not  very 
entertaining  for  her. 

"  Come  girls,  give  us  a  song  or  two,  and  then  we'll 
leave  the  men  to  their  cigars,"  she  said. 

And  without  more  urging,  they  sang  to  us  one  of 
the  old  Hawaiian  songs :  a  mournful  love  chant,  with 
a  soft  thrumming  accompaniment  on  the  native  guitar. 

"  Moa  popo  ku'u  ike  i  ka  nani 
ISTa  pua  rose  o  Maimawililo, 
II  aila  hiaai  na  manu  ; 
Miki  ala  i  ka  nani  o  ka  liko 

O  ka  halia'  lo-ha  i  hiki  mai, 
Ke  hone  ae  nei  ku'u  manawa 
O  oe  no  ka'u  ipo  aloha  ; 
A  lo  ko  i  hana  nei." 

Chorus — Aloha  oe,  aloha  oe 

E  ke  ona-ona  i-ka  lipo 

Sweet  Rose  of  Maunawililo, 
Day  after  day  thy  beauty  grows, 
The  wild  winds  kiss  the  sweet  red  lips 
Of  thy  petals  rare  and  ripe,  fair  Rose. 


NIGHT    AT    LAHAINA.  209 

Sweet  memories  often  come  to  me, 
Soft  tender  thoughts  of  days  gone  by, 
When  thou  wert  mine  and  I  was  thine  ; 
Before  our  hearts  wrere  seared  and  dry. 

Chorus— Farewell  to  thee— to  thee  farewell ! 

Sweet  Rose,  my  love,  my  life — farewell  ! 

At  length  the  ladies  rose  to  go.  It  was  very  late,  they 
said,  and  they  must  retire.  As  for  us,  we  could  sit  on 
forever,  if  we  liked ;  it  surely  was  too  lovely  a  night 
to  waste  in  sleeping,  but  they  had  their  good  looks — 
such  as  they  were — and  their  complexions  to  think 
about ;  and  leading  the  way  went  madam,  curtesying 
and  saying:  "  Aloha  oe!"  then  the  others:  "Good 
night !  Aloha  to  all !  " — and  we  returned  to  our  chairs 
and  cigars.  No  one  knew  what  time  it  was,  no  one 
cared  ;  the  air  was  soft,  the  moon  still  bright,  the 
cigars  excellent.  And  so  we  sat  on  and  on,  until  of 
a  sudden  the  moonlight  grew  dim  ;  the  breeze  which 
had  died  down  piped  up  again.  In  the  foliage  about 
us  the  awkward  call  of  the  mynah  bird  was  heard ;  a 
yellow  light  appeared  in  the  east,  and  a  new  day  was 
announced. 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  said  the  Colonel,  "  it's  to-morrow 
morning !  I  had  no  idea  it  was  as  late  as  that.  Well, 
I  think  I'll  take  about  forty  winks,  myself ;  you  gentle 
men  can  do  as  you  please,"  and  off  he  went  to  bed. 
For  my  part  I  did  not  care  to  sleep,  and  I  strolled 
down  to  the  beach  and  watched  the  surf  as  it  came 
booming  in  upon  the  sand. 

Close  to  the  water's  edge  at  Lahaina  stood  a  group 
of  royal  palms,  tall,  slender  and  graceful ;  their  tops 
formed  of  a  cluster  of  leaves  that  waved  lightly  in  the 


210 

morning  air.  Back  from  the  shore  was  the  village,  bur 
ied  beneath  groves  of  bread-fruit,  banana  and  orange 
trees  ;  while  behind  it,  six  thousand  feet  in  air,  rose 
the  ancient  volcano  of  Eaka,  its  green  sides  split  here 
and  there  by  dark,  gloomy  canyons.  In  and  out  of 
the  grass  huts  that  straggled  along  the  beach  went  the 
native  women,  looking  like  gorgeously  tinted  butter 
fly's  in  their  brilliantly  colored  garments.  At  my  feet 
lay  the  Pacific,  stretching  away  for  miles  a  sur 
face  of  deep,  dark  blue,  save  where  the  water  con 
cealed  some  wonderful  coral  grotto,  which  lit  up  the 
waves  until  they  became  the  golden  color  of  the  western 
sky  in  a  September  afternoon.  Off  in  the  northern 
distance,  floating  in  the  air  above  the  water,  was  a 
huge  purple  cloud,  that  seemed  to  drift,  now  this  way, 
now  that,  as  the  hurrying  winds,  caught  in  some  of  its 
cavernous  recesses,  whirled  it  hither  and  thither.  The 
color  of  the  cloud  changed  with  the  changing  skies 
above  ;  now  smiling  as  the  sun  fell  full  upon  it,  now 
frowning  as  some  wanton  shadow  danced  over  the 
azure  fore-ground.  "  Surely,"  thought  I  "  there  at 
least,  is  Paradise ;  such  a  place  is  too  lovely  for  this 
curse  to  enter.  One  could  rest  forever  in  those  soft 
purple  beds,  soothed  by  the  lullaby  of  a  Siren : 

"  Where  the  shadows  are  blue, 
And  the  light  is  gold; 
Where  the  — 

"  And  yet,"  said  an  unmusical  voice  at  my  side, 
"  that  Paradise,  as  you  call  it,  is  the  most  dreadful 
spot  in  the  world."  I  turned  and  found  it  was 
Kapana  who  had  spoken  ;  Kapana,  lusty  of  limb  and 
mild  of  manner,  but  in  the  daylight  innocent  of  that 


MORNING    AT    LAHAINA.  211 

ghastly  appearance,  so  dreadful  at  night.  "  It  is  the 
living  hell,  hoaaloha*"  he  said ;  "  the  grave  of  the 
living.  Do  not  look  at  it  too  long,  lest  it  poison  your 
eyes." 

I  smiled  in  amusement ;  such  fancies  might  do  for 
midnight  but  I  was  not  so  nervous  as  that  now. 

"  Do  not  smile,  hoaaloha,"  he  went  on  gravely,  "for 
it  is  Molokai — dwelling  place  of  the  lepers.  Look 
again  now ! " 

I  looked  again.  The  shadowy  outlines  seemed  to 
have  grown  hard  and  black ;  I  could  see  the  white 
surf,  beating  on  the  dark  volcanic  rocks  that  formed 
its  iron  sides ;  I  could  see  the  yawning  caverns  that 
led  into  the  home  of  living  fire. 

"  Let  us  go  away,  hoaaloha,"  said  Kapana,  seizing 
my  arm ;  "  let  us  go  away.  It  is  not  good  to  look  at 
Molokai  too  long.  I  cannot !  I  am  myself  pau  loa  i 
kamake — quite  used  up.  Let  us  go  away." 

And  we  strolled  down  the  beach,  and  for  a  while 
watched  the  natives  bathing  in  the  tremendous  surf. 
At  length  he  said  to  me  :  "  I  am  going  this  morning 
on  a  short  visit  to  Wailuku,  upon  the  northern  side  of 
this  island.  It  is  my  home — such  a  home  as  I  have 
left.  Will  you  be  my  guest  ?  We  shall  go  in  a  large 
canoe — and  be  absent  a  week.  You  need  take  nothing 
— I  will  entertain  you  in  the  old  Hawaiian  style.  Will 
you  not  go,  hoaaloha  ?  Your  friends  are  in  no  hurry  j 
no  one  ever  is  in  a  hurry  in  Hawaii,  and  they  will 
await  your  return  contentedly  here  at  Lahaina." 

And  I  went. 

'Friend. 


filS 

II. 

"If  you  will  take  your  seat  amidships  and  not  mind 
a  little  water,  we  shall  go  through  the  surf  all  right," 
said  Kapana  to  me,  and  so,  placing  myself  in  the  centre 
of  the  large  double  canoe  I  awaited  developments. 
Eight  naked  natives  seized  the  boat,  and  upon  the 
reflux  of  a  huge  wave,  rushed  it  forward.  For  an  in 
stant,  just  as  it  met  the  incoming  roller,  it  wavered, 
but  with  a  shout  the  men  shoved  us  outside  the 
breakers  and  then  clambered  in,  their  brown  skins 
shining  with  the  salt  water.  Kapana  stood  in  the 
the  stern,  steering-oar  in  hand  ;  his  calm,  impression- 
less  face  and  magnificent  stature  giving  him  the  ap 
pearance  of  some  huge  bronze  statue. 

The  wind  being  strong  and  nearly  aft,  a  spe 
cies  of  mainsail  and  jib  were  set,  and  under  these 
we  ran  rapidly  along  the  south-west  coast  of  Maui. 
The  light  canoe,  following  the  motions  of  the  long 
waves,  rose  and  fell  with  the  rythmical  regularity  of  a 
&  pendulum.  On  our  right  were  the  precipitous, 
black  lava  cliffs  of  the  island,  against  which  the  sea 
beat  with  useless  fury,  while  here  and  there,  fantastic 
cascades  sprang  over  the  edge  of  the  wall,  embroider 
ing  the  dark  expanse  with  silvery  threads. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful  ?  "  said  Kapana  to  me.  "  I  see 
it  often — very  often — and  yet,  I  love  it  more  than 
•ever  now.  How  hard  it  will  be  to  leave  this  to  die. 
What  have  my  people  done  that  this  curse  has  been 
visited  upon  them  ?  "  He  pointed  with  a  stately  ges 
ture  to  Molokai,  blue  in  the  distance.  "  Is  it  not 
pitiful  ?  My  people  are  dying ;  in  a  little  while  we 


NEAKEK    TO   MOLOKAI.  213 

shall  be  extinct ;  the  world  will  know  us  no  more. 
Why  are  we  thus  damned  ?  Is  it  because  we  were 
once  cannibals — idolaters  ?  But  what  can  you  know 
more  than  others  ?  The  curse  is  everywhere  in  Hawaii. 
It  reaches  the  high — the  low — the  rich — the  poor— 
though  there  are  no  poor  in  Hawaii — except  they  who 
live  there"  Again  he  pointed  to  Molokai,  growing 
more  distinct  as  we  neared  it. 

"  Listen,  hoaaloha  !  "  he  slowly  continued.  "  I  was 
married,  once  ;  I  had  a  wife,  and  she  was  very  beauti 
ful—then.  And  she  bore  me  three  children — they 
are  dead  now,  my  children — and  she  is  dead  also- 
over  there."  Once  more  he  pointed  to  Molokai.  "I 
have  not  seen  her  in  five  years,"  he  went  on  thought 
fully.  "  Five  years !  White  men  say  the  Hawaiians 
have  no  parental  instinct ;  that  we  are  incapable  of  an 
enduring  love.  But  I  loved  Kola  and  our  children — 
yet  I  rejoiced — yes,  I  was  happy — when  they  died, 
one  by  one,  for  I  had  learned  of  the  curse  that  was 
upon  them.  Five  years  ago  she  was — she  went  away, 
though  for  a  year  before  that  I  knew  what  was  surely 
coming.  But  she  had  to  go  at  last — she  who  had  once 
been  so  beautiful ;  she  who  had  been  called  the  Rose 
of  Maunawililo.  Her  cheeks  became  seared,  her 
voice  harsh,  her — but  pardon,  this  is  unpleasant  for  you. 
Look !  let  us  go  a  little  nearer  to  Molokai ;  we  are  no 
longer  superstitious  about  it,  are  we  ?  But  we  must 
not  go  too  near  ;  I  do  not  want  to  see  Kola  again." 

On  we  swung  through  the  tumbling  waters  ;  nearer 
and  nearer  we  drew  to  the  land.  It  lost  its  cloud-like 
appearance  ;  its  harsh  outlines  grew  apparent ;  we 
could  see  its  walls  of  rock,  rising  perpendicularly  from 


214: 

• 

the  sea  for  thousands  of  feet,  here  and  there  gashed 
with  deep,  black  canyons.  It  was  well  named — Molo- 
kai  Aina  Pali,  The  Island  of  Precipices. 

It  was  with  something  very  like  awe  that  I  watched 
the  island  as  we  ran  towards  it ;  it  was  such  a  mysterious 
place  ;  so  awful  in  its  possibilities.  I  felt  as  though*  it 
were  the  ante-room  to  the  Hall  of  Death. 

"  Kapana  !  "  I  said  at  last ;  "  do  not  go  too  near  ;  it 
is  not  right." 

"  Fear  not,  hoaaloha  "  said  he ;  "  I  cannot  go  too 
near.  Look!  look!"  he  cried  suddenly;  "see  them 
there!" 

I  strained  my  eyes,  and  when  my  sight  became  ad 
justed  to  the  new  focus,  I  seemed  to  see  strange  figures 
on  the  shores ;  not  men,  and  yet — not  anything  else. 

"  This  is  near  enough,  Kapana,"  I  urged.  "Near 
enough  ;  I  am  a  coward  ;  let  us  go  away." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  kept  the  boat  steadily  on 
its  course,  his  form  standing  rigidly  in  the  stern  and 
his  glittering  eye  fixed  upon  the  land,  as  if  striving  to 
distinguish  something  there.  Again  I  spoke  : 

"  Let  us  turn  now,"  I  said — "  we  have  seen  all  there 
is — this  is  enough,  and  it  has  been  very  pleasant." 

"  No,  it  is  not  near  enough,"  he  said  harshly,  "  and 
the  joke  has  only  just  begun.  You  may  find  it  will  last 
for  years."  I  began  to  think  he  was  insane. 

"  See  here  !  "  he  cried,  "  Here's  a  joke  for  you  !  " 
He  tore  away  the  sleeve  that  bound  his  right  arm. 
"  Look  at  this  and  tell  me  if  this  isn't  a  joke  !  "  The 
arm  was  horribly  scarred ;  great  patches  of  dead  white 
or  black  skin,  showed  the  rotting  flesh  beneath  ;  at  the 
elbow  was  a  festering  sore,  open  to  the  bone.  I 


IN   THE    WATER.  215 

shrank  back  at  the  sigfit— he  was  a  leper  !  Kapana 
laughed  discordantly  at  my  disgust.  "  Ah  ha  !  you  do 
not  like  it,  eh  !  It  is  not  pleasant,  you  think.  But 
you  shall  see  much  more  than  this,  soon.  Yes,  wait 
till  we  find  Kola,  my  wife.  She  will  be  something 
worth  seeing,  I  warrant  you.  This  is  nothing — but 
she — she  will  be  a  sight !  " 

He  was  plainly  beside  himself,  almost  violently  in 
sane,,  and  capable  of  doing  mischief — though  I  did  not 
realize  it  at  the  moment.  "But  you  must  not  go 
there  !  "  I  weakly  protested. 

"  But  I  will  go  there,"  he  answered.  "  I  want  to 
show  you  all  of  Paradise — last  night  you  wished  to 
see  it— now  you  shall  have  the  chance.  And  my 
Kola— she  will  be  the  Eve  !  " 

We  were  now  but  a  mile  from  the  land,  and  hurry 
ing  towards  it  every  moment.  Frenzied  at  my  own 
powerlessness,  I  grappled  with  Kapana.  I  might  as 
well  have  attempted  to  overthrow  the  pyramids.  His 
enormous  strength  had  not  yet  been  undermined  by 
the  disease,  and  he  flung  me  easily  into  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe.  But  in  doing  this  he  lost  his  balance ;  the 
boat  gave  a  lurch  and  I  was  in  the  water.  With  the 
roaring  of  the  waves  in  my  ears  I  sank — down — down 
— to  rest. 

Then  followed  silence  and  night ! 

Yet  in  one  way  I  was  conscious — I  did  not  com 
pletely  lose  my  identity.  At  first  I  knew  who  I  was, 
yet  could  not  realize  where  I  was,  until  all  at  once  it 
came  to  me — I  was  dead  !  and  I  laughed  to  think  I  had 
died  so  easily.  Yes,  I  was  dead,  and  these  objects  about 
me  were  but  denizens  of  the  next  world.  Queer  sort 


216  MOLOKAI — DEATH'S  VALLEY. 

of  an  affair,  the  next  world  is,  I  thought ;  somewhat  dif 
ferent  from  the  common  idea  of  it.  And  this  little 
matter  of  dying  that  I  used  to  dread  so  much,  is  rather 
pleasant  than  otherwise. 

Then  I  felt  myself  swiftly  lifted  up  by  some 
invisible  force  and  carried  onward  through  darkness. 
There  came  a  desperate  pain  in  my  heart — a  clutch 
at  my  throat.  I  experienced  two  peculiar  sen 
sations — one,  physical — a  desire  to  breath ;  the  other, 
mental — an  attempt  to  think.  I  no  longer  felt  that 
buoyancy  of  spirits  I  did  at  first.  With  a  shock,  as  of  a 
physical  injury,  my  senses  partially  returned  to  me. 
I  drew  a  little  cool  air  into  my  lungs — I  tried  to  speak, 
and  my  returning  consciousness  fled  again.  I  knew 
nothing — or  rather  I  knew  everything.  I  became  a 
mere  idea — an  abstraction.  I  felt  that  I  could  under 
stand  the  meaning  of  Infinity  ;  that  I  was  an  integral 
part  of  it.  And  yet  I  was  helpless — hopeless.  This, 
then,  is  Death — the  final  Death  I  thought — when  my 
soul  is  to  be  ground  up  into  Nothing  and  this  dust  of 
Nothing  is  to  be  scattered  out  through  Space.  Death 
means  Darkness,  both  to  Body  and  Soul ;  Death  means 
absolute  Annihilation — eternal,  black  Night. 

Slowly  I  felt  my  powers  of  understanding  this, 
fade.  I  knew  that  the  end  was  coming — then,  with  a 
puff,  as  of  a  candle  extinguished,  I  lost  all  sentience. 
It  was  over — the  end  had  come. 

Very  slowly  and  very  painfully  I  opened  my  eyes 
after  what  seemed,  to  my  returning  consciousness,  a 
lapse  of  eons  of  years,  and  looked  about  me  on  a  scene 
that  was  startling  and  horrible.  I  awoke  to  semi- 


THE    AWAKENING.  217 

consciousness  with  a  feeling  of  melancholy,  such  as 
the  eaters  of  opiuin  must  feel,  when  deprived  of  their 
drug.  It  was  a  complete  relaxation  of  every  nerve 
— a  loss  of  every  hope.  I  seemed  to  have  gone  be 
yond  death  (I  could  realize  what  that  meant  then, 
though  I  cannot  now),  and  to  have  seen  most  horrible 
and  sickening  sights,  the  memory  of  which  was  still 
haunting  me  in  the  figures  I  looked  upon.  I  found 
myself  lying  upon  an  irregular  plain,  at  one  end  of 
which  was  a  black  wall  of  rock  that  rose  perpendicu 
larly  in  the  air  several  thousand  feet,  without  a  break 
or  foothold,  absolutely  impregnable. 

Around  me  were  clustered,  what  might  once  have 
been  human  beings,  but  from  whom  now  almost  the 
last  vestiges  of  humanity  had  been  stricken  off  by  the 
transformation  that  Death  had  worked  upon  them. 
Here  was  a  man  whose  hands  were  gone  at  the  wrists, 
yet  who  waved  the  frightful,  unhealed  ends  in  wild 
gesticulations  in  the  air  ;  there  was  one,  standing  un 
concernedly  upon  the  raw  and  bloody  stumps  of 
his  legs,  shortened  to  the  knees.  I  saw  two  women ; 
the  face  of  one  was  a  mass  of  hideous  corruption, 
her  nose  and  ears  were  literally  dropping  off ;  in  the 
cheek  of  the  other  was  a  great  hole  that  laid  open  the 
half  of  her  face  ;  her  eyes  were  unshaded  by  eye 
lashes  or  eyebrows,  her  hair  was  of  a  disgusting 
yellowish-white  color,  and  hung  about  her  head 
in  snaky,  Medusa-like  locks.  In  her  arms  she 
carried  a  year-old  babe,  whose  skin  was  clean  and 
undefiled  —  a  really  beautiful  child — making  the  con 
trast  with  the  others  all  the  more  dreadful.  I  saw 
a  woman  whose  head  was  entirely  denuded  of  hair — 


218 

great  white  patches  covered  her  dark  skin  wherever 
it  was  visible,  and  she  was  blind — for  in  the  sockets 
where  her  eyes  had  once  been,  now  swelled  hideous 
tubercles,  red  and  slimy.  A  young  girl  of  fifteen  stood 
by  her,  and  she  like  the  rest,  was  cruelly  scarred  with 
great  discolored  blotches  upon  her  face  and  neck,  while 
her  hands  were  like  a  skeleton's — bony  and  stiff ;  the 
nails  had  dropped  off ;  the  joints  were  laid  bare  by 
festering  sores,  or  were  swollen  and  red  ;  her  eye-lids 
and  lips  were  raw  and  bloody.  And  yet  these  people, 
in  spite  of  their  horrible  appearance,  seemed  not  to 
think  of  it.  They  were  talking  and  laughing,  one  with 
another,  and  pointing  and  looking  at  me — such  of 
them  as  had  eyes  to  see  with. 

Their  voices  added  another  horror  to  the  scene. 
Harsh,  shrill,  discordant  with  some  ;  miserable,  wheez 
ing,  puny  sounds  with  others.  And  when  one  of  them 
laughed  aloud — it  was  the  man  without  legs — I  cov 
ered  up  my  face  with  my  hands,  and  shuddered  in 
ineffable  disgust. 

With  an  effort  I  controlled  myself  at  last,  and  spoke 
to  the  one  nearest  me.  It  cost  me  a  tremendous  ex 
ertion  to  do  this,  on  account  of  both  the  man's  repul 
sive  appearance  and  the  dread  I  had  of  hearing  my 
own  voice,  sounding  cracked  and  shrill  like  the  others. 
But  no  attention  was  paid  to  me.  I  endeavored  to 
sit  up,  but  the  change  of  position  set  my  head  whirl 
ing,  and  I  became  deathly  sick.  Just  at  this  moment 
the  objects  about  me  moved  a  little  and  I  saw,  coming 
toward  me,  a  strange  figure.  It  was  that  of  a  man, 
dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  priest  of  the  Order  of  Jesus. 
He  was  of  slender  build  and  erect  carriage,  and  but 


FATHER    DAMIEN.  219 

for  a  certain  heaviness  of  brow,  a  glassy  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  here  and  there,  white  or  brown  patches  on  his 
forehead  and  ears,  he  would  have  been  a  really  hand 
some  man.  There  was,  in  the  lines  of  his  mouth,  a 
look  of  benignity,  combined  with  firmness,  that  was 
very  winning.  He  appeared  to  be  about  40  years 
old.  He  approached  my  side,  and  kneeling  down 
said  in  English,  though  with  a  marked  French  accent: 
•"  Ah !  he  is  not  dead  !  Dieu  soit  remercie  !  "  He 
poured  out  a  little  liquor  into  a  cup.  "  Drink  this  ! 
it  will  do  you  good  !  "  he  said.  "  No,  do  not  touch  me" 
he  added,  hastily,  as  I  rested  my  hand  a  moment  on 
his  shoulder.  "  It  were  better  you  did  not." 

I  drank  off  the  liquor — it  was  brandy — and  as  I  did 
so  the  priest  watched  me.  "  I  had  only  just  heard  of 
your  misfortune,"  he  said,  "  and  I  hurried  here  to 
you.  Can  you  walk  a  little  way  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  I  answered,  "  although  I  am  weak  yet, 

but  where  am  I  ?  Is  this ? "  I  was  going  to  ask 

if  it  was  hell,  but  checked  myself.  The  priest  smiled 
.sadly — he  understood  my  meaning.  "Yes,  this  is 
Molokai  —  Death's  Valley,"  he  said,  "and  those 
whom  you  see  here  are  really  but  the  dead  alive." 

He  turned  and  spoke  a  few  words  in  Hawaiian  to 
the  hideous  things  about  me,  and  they  slowly  moved 
away,  talking  unconcernedly  and  merrily,  in  shrill, 
discordant  voices. 

"  You  say  this  is  Molokai,"  I  said,  "  the  asylum  of 
the  lepers.  But  how  did  I  come  here  ?  I  cannot 
remember." 

"  You  were  upset  in  a  canoe,"  said  the  priest,  "  and 


220 

brought  here  by  the  crew,  who  swam  ashore.  They 
thought  you  were  dead." 

The  whole  affair  flashed  through  my  mind.  "  But 
where  is  Kapana  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Was  he  drowned  ? " 

"  If  Kapana  is  the  alii  who  was  with  you,  he  is  still 
alive,"  said  the  priest ;  "  but  did  you  know  he  was  a 
leper  ?  Just  now  he  seems  a  little  insane — lepers  are 
sometimes  afflicted  in  that  way  at  certain  stages  of 
the  disease.  But  let  us  go  to  my  house — slowly — 
this  way,  M'sieu — voila  !  " 

And  off  we  started  together  at  a  very  slow  pace, 
towards  a  group  of  houses  that  stood  a  half-mile  back 
from  the  sea.  As  rny  strength  and  confidence  gradually 
returned  to  me,  I  was  able  to  take  note  of  my  sur 
roundings.  I  found  myself  upon  a  point  of  land  of 
triangular  shape,  two  sides  being  bounded  by  the  sea ; 
the  other,  or  base,  was  formed  by  the  wall  of  rock 
already  spoken  of.  The  triangle  was  a  high  plateau, 
that  stood  straight  up  a  hundred  feet  from  the  water, 
except  at  two  places,  where  short  strips  of  sand  formed 
landing  places.  The  area  of  the  triangle  was  about 
ten  square  miles,  I  should  say,  and  sloped  gently  up 
wards  towards  the  centre.  Here  rose  a  high,  rocky 
mound,  perhaps  a  quarter  mile  in  diameter,  forming 
the  extinct  crater  of  the  volcano  of  Kohukoo,  its  black 
rocks  yet  undraped  in  green.  But  the  sloping  plains 
about  the  crater  were  bright  in  the  luxuriant  vege 
tation  of  the  orange,  bread-fruit,  banana,  fig  and  palm 
trees.  The  manienie  grass  clothed  the  earth  with  a 
tight-fitting  garment,  while  the  flowers  were  every 
where.  It  was  a  truly  noble  sight,  and  made  me  for 
get  for  a  moment  where  I  was.  But  only  for  a  mo- 


EEMINISCENCE.  221 

>ment.  The  very  voice  even  of  ray  companion  told 
me  that  I  was  in  the  company  of  a  leper,  and  reminded 
me  that  this  spot  was  occupied  only  by  the  human 
outcasts  of  the  world.  As  we  walked  toward  a  little 
group  of  white  cottages,  the  good  priest,  in  a  few 
words,  gave  me  an  account  of  himself  and  the  place. 
He  had  landed  on  Molokai,  he  said,  in  September, 
1873,  having  come  from  Belgium  here. 

Had  M'sieu  ever  been  in  Anvers — in  Antwerp? 
Yes  ?  Ah  !  then  he  had  seen  the  Cathedral  there ;  did 
not  M'sieu  think  it  the  finest  Cathedral  in  all  Europe  ? 
That  spire,  so  light,  so  graceful  and  slender,  yet  so 
strong.  And  then  that  sweet  carillon  of  bells  !  What 
is  that  like  more  than  an  angel's  harp  !  And  did  not 
M'sieu  recollect  those  two  paintings  by  Rubens  ?  Ah, 
si  magnifique !  (he  crossed  himself),  the  Elevation  and 
the  Descent  from  the  Cross.  And  the  old  fountain  in 
front  of  the  Cathedral,  that  brave  Quentin  Matsys 
made,  and — but  pardon,  this  was  silly  in  him.  But 
he  had  once  been  a  priest  in  that  same  grand  old 
Anvers  Cathedral,  and  when  he  met  some  one  who  had 
seen  it,  and  its  pictures  and — and  its  delicate  spire — 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  more  beautiful,  is  there 
M'sieu  ? — he  could  not  help  it — it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  once  more  there.  Jesu !  but  it  was  a  blessed 
place  !  And  now  he  had  other  things  to  do  besides 
dreaming. 

He  had  come  to  Molokai,  he  said,  because  he  be 
lieved  it  his  duty  as  a  priest.  He  had  left  the  old 
world's  comforts  and  its  chances  of  preferment,  to  carry 
God's  word  and  the  promise  of  Salvation  in  Christ  unto 
these  poor  people.  And  M'sieu  can  see  that  they  need 


222  MOLOKAI- 

comfort   spiritual,   since   they  cannot   have   comfort 
physical. 

"  Do  they  live  long,  these  lepers,  M'sieu  asks  ? 
Mais  oui — helas  yes,  only  too  long ;  it  is  sluggish  dis 
ease  ;  all  the  more  dreadful  for  that.  Sometimes  they 
will  be  lepers  twenty  years  and  not  die,  yet  growing 
more  horrible  every  day.  Still,  it  is  a  mercy  that 
they  gradually  loose  their  sensitiveness  ;  the  disease 
deadens  all  their  susceptibilities. 

"  M'sieu  asks  my  name  !  A  thousand  pardons,  I 
should  have  told  it  before.  They  call  me  Father 
Damien  ;  it  is  my  priestly  name,  as  M'sieu  of  course 
understands. 

"  ~No  one  can  imagine  the  dread  I  had  of  coming  here 
in  the  first  place,  M'sieu.  Again  and  again  my  heart 
failed  me ;  I  felt  like  an  irresolute  man  about  to  com 
mit  suicide.  Arid  yet,  even  while  I  halted,  I  knew  I 
should  go,  for  I  was  ordered  by  a  more  than  Earthly 
power,  and  although  my  weak  flesh  protested  yet  I 
came.  I  knew  I  was  going  to  a  living  death  ;  that  I 
was  forever  giving  up  the  world,  but  a  Jesuit  priest 
must  have  no  thought  or  fear  of  such  things. 

"  Have  I  succeeded  in  my  labors  to  my  hopes,  M'sieu 
asks  ?  No — no  one  ever  quite  does  that,  but  that  I 
have  done  good  here  I'm  sure  I  can  say.  Yoyezr 
M'sieu  :  I  have  built  me  two  small  churches  ;  I  have 
established  two  schools  for  leper  children  ;  I  have 
preached  the  word  to  these  poor  wretches ;  I  have 
taught  morality  and  cleanliness,  and  brought  some 
little  order  out  'of  the  former  confusion.  It  is  small, 
what  I  have  done,  but  it  is  something.  When  I  came 
here  in  1873  I  found  eight  hundred  unfortunates,  liv- 


THE   MISSION    OF   THE    SACKED    HEAET.  223 

ing  together  in  inconceivable  wretchedness.  The 
dead  were  buried  without  ceremony,  in  shallow 
nameless  graves ;  the  dying  passed  away  without 
absolution.  ISTow  we  have  a  hospital,  in  which  the 
poor  can  come  to  die ;  they  go  not  hence  unr 
shriven,  nor  are  they  buried  without  the  rights 
of  the  church.  God  knows  my  work  has  been 
imperfect,  but  I  have  done  my  best,  and  when 
my  turn  comes  I  shall  be  ready." 

I  was  wonderfully  impressed  with  his  manner  and 
with  himself.  Since  the  Christian  era  began  I  could 
think  of  few  nobler  instances  of  self-sacrifice  than  this 
of  which  he  spoke  so  quietly.  Men  had  given  up  their 
lives  for  country  or  for  others,  but  none  had  deliber 
ately  walked  into  the  mouth  of  a  yawning  grave,  as 
this  priest  had — solely  actuated  by  the  desire  to  help 
others— knowing  that  in  time  he  too  must  contract  the 
dreadful  evil  and  himself  become  like  the  loathsome 
objects  about  him.  To  a  sensitive  man — such  as  he 
was — there  could  be  no  greater  torture  than  to  see, 
in  the  hideous  faces  that  he  looked  upon  every  day, 
the  pictures  of  what  he  soon  must  be  himself.  He 
had  buried  himself  alive  when  he  landed  on  Molokai, 
and  went  to  face  a  death  that  might  be  prolonged  for 
many  years.  If  ever  a  martyr  deserved  to  be  canon 
ized,  this  Father  Damien  did,  I  thought. 

By  this  time,  in  spite  of  our  slow  progress,  we  had 
reached  a  little  wooden  church,  whose  short  spire  I 
had  seen  far  out  at  sea.  It  was  painted  white,  and 
the  bright  clean  appearance  of  the  building  and  the 
grounds  about  it,  was  noticeable.  Facing  it,  and  a 
hundred  feet  away,  was  a  small,  two-story  cottage,  also 


224: 

painted  white,  and  with  windows  and  doors  shaded  by 
green  blinds.  Entering,  I  found  the  cottage  consisted 
of  two  rooms,  scrupulously  clean,  but  with  bare  floors, 
and  walls  unadorned  except  by  some  pictures  of  Catho 
lic  Saints,  and  a  shelf,  upon  which  stood  a  few  well- 
worn  books.  A  couch  in  one  corner  and  two  rough 
chairs  comprised  all  the  furniture. 

"  If  M'sieu  will  come  this  way,"  said  the  priest,  "  I 
will  show  him  how  to  get  dinner.  Although  it  may 
seem  inhospitable,  it  would  not  be  prudent  for  me 
to  prepare  the  food — I  being  a  leper — but  M'sieu 
will  find  plenty  of  fruit,  oranges,  bananas  and  figs,  that 
are  clean  and  untainted,  and  perhaps  the  juice  of  a 
cocoanut,  if  he  wishes  it.  Meantime  I  will  attend  to 
one  or  two  little  duties  and  then  we  will  talk  more, 
for  it  is  a  greater  pleasure  than  I  can  express,  to  meet 
one  with  whom  I  can  converse." 

As  I  sat  eating  the  oranges  and  bananas,  I  suddenly 
thought  of  Kapana  again,  and  when  the  priest  returned, 
I  asked  about  him. 

"  If  you  mean  the  alii  you  were  speaking  of  before," 
he  answered,  "  he  is  alive,  but  he  seems  to  be  some 
what  affected  mentally.  I  believe  I  told  you  he  was  a 
leper."  I  bowed  ;  I  knew  that  before.  "  I  think 
he  has  been  brooding  over  his  misfortunes  so  long  that 
his  mind  has  become  unbalanced.  It  sometimes 
affects  them  so,  though  usually  the  Hawaiiaris  are 
too  ignorant  and  thoughtless  to  care  about  anything 
whatever.  But  this  Kapana  was  a  man  of  good 
ability  once.  All  the  other  men  in  the  canoe  were 
saved  of  course  ;  it  is  impossible  to  drown  a  Hawaiian. 
Two  of  them  are  already  lepers,  though  in  the  first 


KALAWAO.  225 

stages ;  the  other  six  are  as  yet  clean,  but  such  is  their 
indifference  to  the  disease  that  they  have  decided  to 
stay  here  upon  Molokai.  But  if  M'sieu  is  not  too 
tired,  we  might  walk  out  a  little  way  over  the  land ; 
we  can  then  see  something  of  this  place.  But  first 
let  me  tell  you  something  of  it." 

"  This  point  we  are  on,"  he  said,  "  is  the  Leper  Set 
tlement  of  Kalawao.  It  is  practically  inaccessible, 
except  by  water,  being  bounded  on  two  sides  by  the 
sea  and  on  the  third  by  the  pali.  To  this  place  are 
sent  all  lepers,  as  fast  as  the  Health  officers  of  the 
Government  discover  them.  Once  here  there  is  no 
escape  for  them  but  death.  There  have  been  landed 
on  this  point,  since  the  establishment  of  the  Colony, 
twenty  years  ago,  3,101  lepers — of  whom  1,985  were 
males  and  1,116  females.  There  are  alive  to-day  689, 
showing  that  2,412  have  died  of  the  disease  in  twenty 
years.  M'sieu  asks  if  there  are  but  eight  hundred 
cases  of  leprosy  in  all  Hawaii.  Ah  no !  There  are 
many  more  cases  than  that,  four  or  five  hundred  per 
haps,  but  they  are  not  known.  The  natives  have  no 
fear  of  the  disease,  and  will  conceal  a  leper  from  the 
officers,  by  hiding  him  in  the  forests,  or  under  mats, 
until  the  risk  of  detection  is  past.  I  tell  you  M'sieu, 
leprosy  lurks  in  the  green  forests  of  Hawaii,  just  as 
the  serpent  lies  hid  in  the  grass. 

"  Each  leper  is  supplied  by  the  Government*  with 
weekly  rations,"  continued  the  priest,  "  consisting  of 
twenty-one  pounds  ofpoi,  or  rice  andjpoi,  and  seven 

*The  biennial  appropriation  by  the  Hawaiian  Government  for  the  care 
of  the  lepers  is  $100,000,  but  this  is  insufficient  and  should  be  largely  in 
creased. 


226 

pounds  of  beef  or  mutton,  besides  a  certain  quantity 
of  milk,  kerosene  oil,  and  soap,  and  a  small  supply  of 
clothing.  Those  who  have  the  means  often  build 
houses  for  themselves ;  those  who  are  poor  are  housed 
by  the  Government.  There  is  a  hospital,  established 
for  the  reception  of  the  worst  cases,  and  it  is  here 
that  the  lepers  come,  one  by  one,  to  die.  As  M'sieu 
can  see,  there  are  two  villages  on  the  point,  the  one  at 
the  northern  side  is  called  Kalaupapa ;  the  other  on  the 
southern  is  called  Kalawao.  It  is  at  Kalaupapa  that  the 
steamer  lands,  once  in  six  weeks,  and  this  is  our  only 
means  of  communication  with  the  world." 

"  And  now  let  us  see  for  ourselves  what  there  is  in 
Kalawao.  En  avant,  M'sieu  !  "  he  said,  smiling  to 
hear  himself  use  such  a  military  expression.  And 
picking  up  his  staff  and  hat,  he  and  I  went  out 
together. 

A  little  way  from  his  cottage  we  passed  a  group  of 
children  playing.  Some  were  clean,  but  many  bore 
upon  their  bodies  the  unmistakable  signs  of  the  dread 
ful  plague.  "  It  is  the  pitifullest  sight,"  said  the 
good  man  "  to  see  these  tiny  children,  all  suffering 
from  the  curse,  visited  upon  them  for  no  fault  of  their 
own.  Allons  M'sieu !  there  is  worse  coming." 

As  we  walked  slowly  along,  we  saw  advancing 
towards  us,  two  figures,  and  as  we  neared  them  I  per 
ceived  one  of  them  to  be  Kapana ;  the  other  was  a 
woman.  She  was  dressed  in  the  native  lioloku  of  red 
cotton  cloth,  and  it  was  not  until  we  were  quite  near 
that  I  perceived  her  dreadful  appearance.  Her  face 
was  seamed  and  riven  with  the  leprosy.  One  ear 
had  been  eaten  away ;  one  eye  was  sightless.  Her 


THE   ROSE    OF   MAUNAWILILO.  227 

right  arm  was  twisted  and  shrunken ;  her  fingers 
were  claw-like  and  paralyzed,  while  wretched  sores 
appeared  upon  her  hands.  Her  hair  was  turned  to  a 
yellowish  white,  her  eye-brows  were  gone,  and  her 
lips  were  raw  and  bloody.  As  if  to  accentuate  her 
dreadful  appearance,  about  her  neck,  swollen  with 
the  sores  and  scales  of  leprosy,  she  wore  leis  of  bright 
yellow  and  red  flowers,  and  in  her  hair — her  horrible, 
snaky  hair — roses. 

"  Ah,  ha !  hooaloha  !  "  cried  Kapana  as  soon  as  he 
saw  me.  "  And  so  here  you  are  !  And  you  were  not 
drowned  after  all !  Never  mind,  there  is  no  hurry 
about  dying.  You've  heard  of  Kola,  my  wife  ?  Well, 
this  is  she."  The  horrible  figure  made  a  grotesque 
curtesy  and  in  a  shrill  voice  cried:  "  Aloha  oe  !  "  and 
extended  her  hand  as  if  to  shake  mine.  But  I  shrank 
away  from  the  disgusting  contact  with  fear.  Kapana 
laughed  harshly. 

u  Ah,  ha !  he  cried,  "so  you  are  afraid  she  will  de 
file  you,  are  you  ?  You  who  are  so  clean  !  Are  you 
not  glad  I  brought  you  here  ?  And  is  not  my  Kola 
beautiful  ? "  and  again  he  laughed  discordantly,  while 
the  thing  by  his  side  echoed  it  shrilly.  He  touched 
his  finger  to  her  seared  cheek.  "  See  ! "  he  said,  "  here 
is  the  Rose  of  Maunawililo  ;  it  was  to  my  Kola  that 
that  song  was  written.  Don't  you  remember? 

"  The  wild  winds  kiss  the  sweet  red  lips 
Of  thy  petals  rare  and  ripe,  fair  Rose. 

"Look  now  at  her  sweet  red  lips?"  and  he  pointed 
to  her  seared  cheeks,  and  grinned  horribly. 

I  turned  away  in  disgust  at  Kapana  and  his  words, 
and  followed  the  priest  down  the  path.  A  few  rods 


228  MOLOKAI — DEATH'S  VALLEY. 

beyond  we  entered  the  hospital  inclosure.  The  hos 
pital  consisted  of  a  dozen  detached  cottages,  cleanly 
whitewashed,  outside  and  in.  Within  the  buildings 
were  48  patients,  28  males  and  20  females,  all  momently 
expecting  to  die,  yet  dreading  death  most  strangely. 
Never  have  I  beheld  such  sights  as  I  saw  there.  Of  all 
the  sickening  and  repulsive  libels  and  hideous  carica 
tures  upon  the  human  face  and  form  that  I  had  before 
looked  upon,  none  compared  with  these  new  sights 
in  the  hospital.  Here  I  saw  those  about  to  die  ;  those 
whom  the  dreadful  disease  had  at  last  almost  con 
quered.  If  one  can  imagine  the  appearance  of  a  corpse 
exhumed  after  being  a  week  buried  he  may  have  an 
idea  of  some  of  the  lepers  slowly  dying  in  the  hospital 
at  Kalawao.  On  every  hand  was  Death,  in  its  most 
horrible  shapes.  There  was  nothing  peaceful — nothing 
hopeful — everything  was  as  dreadful  as  it  could  be  ; 
worse  than  I  had  before  thought  possible.  It  seemed 
like  looking  into  some  tomb,  and  throughout  all  the 
rooms  there  prevaded  the  peculiar  sickening  odor  of 
the  grave,  that  but  added  to  this  impression.  Here  was 
what  had  been  a  pretty  child  of  ten  ;  now  a  loathsome, 
rotting  mass.  There  lay  the  putrefying,  yet  breathing 
remains  of  what  one  time  had  been  a  young  maiden. 
All  ages  were  there  in  the  hospital,  from  the  child 
of  a  few  years,  to  the  old  man  of  seventy,  yet 
all  so  dreadfully  disfigured  by  the  disease  as  to  be  in 
distinguishable  one  from  the  other. 

The  horrors  of  Dante's  Inferno,  I  believe,  were  out 
done  by  the  sights  in  the  hospital.  Death  !  death  ! 
death  !  on  every  side.  Not  that  quiet,  peaceful  death, 
where  the  smiling  soul  glides  away  into  space  and 


THE  PEIEST'S  ADVICE.  229^ 

leaves  a  benediction  on  the  frame  that  so  long  gave 
it  shelter.  No — here  everything  was  frightful.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  body  had  long  since  died,  and  that 
life  was  lingering  in  a  corpse  unburied,  u  whose  only 
duty  was  to  die,"  and  yet  which  could  not.  Through 
the  rooms  blew  the  soft  air  from  off  the  warm  ocean, 
but  it  could  not  purify  the  corruption  there.  Outside, 
the  land  was  gay  with  the  most  brilliant  flowers  and 
luxuriant  vegetation  ;  everything  was  bright  and  fresh 
and  clean — within  everything  was  foul  and  hideous. 
Why  could  not  these  things  die  and  hide  their  corrup 
tion  out  of  sight.  "  For  this  corruptible  must  put  on 
incorruption" — it  were  a  mercy  to  all  if  they  did 
now.  The  contrast  between  the  fresh  glories  of  the 
tropical  vegetation  without,  and  the  horrors  of  the 
dying  within  was  indescribable. 

As  the  priest  and  I  were  walking  through  the 
buildings,  a  native  attendant  approached  and  spoke  to 
him  in  the  Hawaiian  tongue.  He  turned  to  me 
and  said : 

"  He  tells  me  that  one  of  the  lepers  is  dying  and  I 
must  go  to  him.  Will  you  not  return  to  my  house 
and  await  me  there?  I  shall  not  be  long." 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  immense  relief  that  I  turned 
away  from  that  Chamber  of  Horrors  and  hurried 
back  to  the  cottage,  hardly  daring  to  look  behind  me. 
lest  I  should  see  myself  followed  by  some  inquisitive, 
corpse :  and  I  took  my  seat  on  the  veranda  of  the, 
priest's  house,  thankful  that  I  had  seen  the  last  of 
those  sights,  which  I  cannot  forget,  and  yetj which  I 
am  thankful  my  pen  cannot  accurately  describe. 


230 


III. 

"Now,  M'sieu,"  said  the  priest,  as  he  rejoined  me, 
"  the  first  thing  we  must  think  about  is  how  to  get 
you  away  from  this  dreadful  place.  I  believe  I  am 
consulting  your  own  wishes  when  I  say  this,  for  no  one 
would  stay  here  long  unlesss  " — here  he  smiled  sadly 
— "unless  he  has  work  to  do.  God  sent  me  here  to 
labor  among  these  unfortunates,  and  now  I  am  my 
self  afflicted.  Yet  I  looked  for  this  when  I  came  ; 
I  knew  it  would  surely  happen,  and  so  I  am  not  cast 
down.  I  shall  labor  here  until  the  end  cometh — but 
this  is  not  what  I  wanted  to  talk  about." 

He  paused  for  a  minute,  then  slowly  continued : 
"  No,  M'sieu,  you  must  not  tarry.  Every  moment  that 
you  pass  here  is  fraught  with  danger  to  you.  There 
is  pollution  everywhere.  You  have  to-day  seen  what 
a  dreadful  curse  this  leprosy  is ;  do  not,  I  beg  you, 
stay  here  and  run  the  risk  of  contagion."  His  voice 
shook  a  little  with  the  earnestness  of  his  words,  and 
he  paused  a  moment. 

"Do  not  think  me  inhospitable,  M'sieu,  in  thus  urg 
ing  you  away,  for  a  slow  and  horrible  death  inevitably 
awaits  you  if  you  linger." 

I  could  not  help  feeling  moved  by  the  good  priest's 
words  and  manner,  and  I  assured  him  that  I  wished, 
above  all  things,  to  escape  from  the  place.  I  was 
sick,  soul  and  body,  with  the  awful  sights  I  had  that 
day  seen — many  so  dreadful  as  to  be  indescribable  on 
these  pages,  and  of  which  I  have  not  even  dared  to 
hint.  ~No  grave  or  charnel  house  could  have  offered 
more  horrors  than  I  saw  on  Molokai. 


THE    WAY    OUT.  231 

"  You  may  leave  by  the  Government  steamer, 
M'sieu,"  continued  the  priest,  "  but  unfortunately  she 
will  not  be  here  again  in  five  or  six  weeks — perhaps 
longer." 

"  Is  there  no  other  way,  then  ? "  I  asked.  "  Must  I 
stay  here  six  weeks  ?  Is  there  no  small  boat  in  which 
I  can  sail  to  Maui  ?  " 

"  None,"  said  the  priest.  "  No  boat  but  the  Gov 
ernment  vessel  is  allowed  to  land  or  leave  here ;  the 
lepers  are  forbidden  to  own  canoes  and  indeed,  they 
are  all  too  feeble  to  handle  them.  But  there  is  another 
way  by  which  you  can  leave,  though  it  is  very  difficult 
and  dangerous." 

"  It  cannot  be  more  dangerous  than  living  here  six 
weeks,"  I  said. 

"  No,"  answered  the  priest,  "  that  is  so  ;  it  is  not. 
You  must  climb  to  the  main  part  of  the  island,  by 
ascending  that  cliff.  Once  at  its  summit  you  can 
easily  reach  the  village  of  Hulahoke.  The  steamer 
Likelike  touches  there  every  two  weeks,  and  on  her 
you  can  embark  for  Honolulu  or  Lahaina." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  I  cannot  fly  and  so  I  can  never 
scale  that  precipice  that  rises  three  thousand  feet 
straight  up." 

"  There  is  a  slender  path  up  the  pali"  said  the 
priest.  "  It  is  a  very  insecure  one,  the  more  so  now 
since  a  recent  earthquake  has  rent  the  face  of  the 
cliff.  Still,  I  think  you  can  scale  it,  if  you  are  will 
ing  to  try." 

"lam  willing  to  try  anything,"  I  said  earnestly. 
"  I  must  leave  this  spot,  for  I  believe  I  should  lose  my 
reason  if  I  were  to  stay  here  a  month." 


232 

The  priest  smiled  faintly.  "Yes,  M'sieu,  you 
are  quite  right !  It  would  be  wicked  to  rest  here 
unless  you  have  work  to  do.  Yes — you  must  go,  but 
not  to-night.  See  !  the  sun  is  almost  set ;  it  will  be 
dark  soon  and  no  one  can  venture  along  the  face  of 
the  pali  save  in  the  clear  light  of  day.  To-morrow, 
at  sunrise,  you  shall  start,  and  I  will  send  with  you  a 
native  as  a  guide  He  is  not  a  leper  yet,  though  he 
lives  here  on  Kalawao,  where  his  ancestors  have  lived 
for  many  generations.  Before  long  the  curse  will 
smite  him — it  is  as  inevitable  as  death  itself — but  as 
yet  he  is  clean." 

As  the  westering  sun  slowly  sank  into  the  sea,  the 
air  which  had  been  very  hot  all  day  grew  cooler,  and 
the  soft  trade-winds  blew  a  refreshing  draught 
through  the  cottage.  We  moved  our  chairs  out  upon 
the  narrow  veranda,  and  sat  there  awhile  in  silence. 
The  long  rolling  surges  of  the  Pacific  beat  with  a 
ceaseless  shock  against  the  black  rocks  that  formed 
the  point.  About  us  on  every  hand  grew  trees  and 
flowers,  with  the  splendid  profusion  of  the  tropics. 
The  land  glowed  in  its  bright  dress  of  warm  colors  or 
looked  fresh  in  the  cool  green  of  grass  and  leaf.  In 
front  of  the  cottage  stood  a  cluster  of  palms,  their 
tops  waving  softly  in  the  breezes,  and  between  their 
slender  trunks  we  saw  the  sea,  red  in  the  evening 
light.  Just  as  the  sun  touched  the  water  the  bell 
in  the  little  church  tower  tolled  musically,  and  the 
priest  arose : 

"  M'sieu  will  excuse  me,"  he  said;  "  but  it  is  sun 
set,  and  at  this  hour  I  hold  a  service  in  my  chapel. 
But  perhaps  M'sieu  will  care  to  go  ?  " 


OEA    PRO    NOBIS.  233 

"  Above  all  things ! "  I  said,  and  followed  him  into 
the  little  chapel. 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  the  good  Father  that 
evening,  and  to  note  the  earnestness  and  devoutness 
with  which  he  conducted  the  splendid  services  of  his 
church.  Yet  it  seemed  like  a  Mass  in  Purgatory  to  me, 
when  I  looked  about  on  the  congregation  assem 
bled  there.  For  every  one  had  been  stricken — every 
one  was  doomed,  and  upon  the  bodies  of  each  were 
the  dreadful  signs  of  their  coming  fate.  Hands,  fin 
gers,  feet  sometimes  were  gone;  cheeks  were  festering, 
lips  were  raw  and  bleeding  ;  voices  were  harsh  and  dis 
cordant. 

Among  the  worshipers  were  everywhere  the  evi 
dences  of  approaching  death.  I  saw  children  of 
tender  ages,  upon  whose  elfish,  wizened  faces  were 
deep  scars  and  furrows  and  blistering  sores.  Then 
youths  and  maidens,  who  should  have  been  enjoying 
the  health  and  beauty  of  happy  lives,  but  who  stood 
there  upon  the  edges  of  too  early,  and  yet  too  tardy 
graves.  And  old  men  and  women,  whose  twilight  of 
life  was  black  midnight,  as  mournful  and  sad  as  can 
be  imagined.  But  why  go  on  ?  I  am  only  repeating 
what  I  have  already  written — dwelling  upon  horrors 
that  are  better  forgotten. 

As  I  sat  there  in  the  slowly  waning  light,  surround 
ed  by  these  repulsive  remnants  of  humanity,  the  scene 
was  ghastly  and  fearful.  And  when  I  heard  the 
priest  chant  his  Orapro  nobis,  I  felt  that  if  ever  a 
prayer  were  answered  his  would  be. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  and  thankfulness  that 
I  stepped  out  into  the  fresh  air  again,  and  felt  the  soft 


234 

wind  blowing  upon  my  face,  and  caught  the  sweet 
perfume  of  the  flowers  that  grew  about  the  cottage. 
Yery  late  that  night  did  the  good  Father  and  I  sit 
up,  talking  of  many  things,  or  looking  off  at  the  white 
sea.  For  a  while  I  was  alone,  the  priest  having  been 
called  away  to  see  some  poor  creature  whose  death  was 
happily  near.  And  in  his  absence  my  thoughts  were  of 
him  and  his  noble  martyrdom.  Who  says  this  is  not 
the  age  of  gallant  deeds?  I  thought.  Who  says  men 
are  less  brave  than  of  old  ?  "  Greater  love  hath  no 
man  than  this,  that  a  man  will  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friend,"  said  Christ.  And  men  are  doing  this  every 
day;  in  battle,  in  shipwreck,  in  burning  building, 
in  engine-cab,  where  a  moment's  tarrying  means 
death  to  the  engineer  and  life  to  the  passengers  be 
hind  him.  We  read  of  such  deeds  constantly.  But 
this  act  of  Father  Damien's  is  of  a  higher  order  than 
those,  for  he  has  thoughtfully  and  cheerfully  entered 
this  Yalley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 

"  Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind," 

and  knowingly  stepped  into  the  open  grave.  And  his 
heroism  seems  all  the  more  splendid,  when  one  thinks 
that  he  went  to  Molokai,  strong  in  body  and  active  in 
brain  ;  in  every  way  one  whom  the  world  would  have 
welcomed,  for  graces  both  of  person  and  of  mind  ;  in 
every  way  one  for  whom  the  world  had  charms.  And 
this  man  had  come  to  this  foul  spot,  under  every  stone  of 
which  is  hidden  the  curse,  solely  actuated  by  his  belief 
in  a  future  life,  and  that  it  was  his  mission  to  point 
out  to  these  afflicted  people  the  way  to  salvation.  The 
thought  returned  to  me  with  increasing  force,  how 


NIGHT    AT    KALAWAO.  235 

•dreadful  it  must  be  to  him  to  daily  see  in  the 
hideous  faces  and  corrupted  bodies,  the  pictures  of 
what  he  soon  must  be,  and  to  know  that  for  years  he 
will  linger  thus,  growing  daily  worse;  longing  for 
that  day's  sun  that  shall  see  the  kindly  earth  close  over 
him,  and  for  that  moment  when  he  shall  stand  forth — 
clean  and  pure— and  take  his  place  high  among  the 
•saints. 

When  at  length  the  priest  returned  to  the  cottage, 
lie  sank  down  wearily  in  his  chair.  "  Each  day  I  find 
I  lose  my  strength,  he  said.  "  When  I  first  carne 
here  I  could  work  the  day  long  and  not  tire ;  now  the 
smallest  exertion  wearies  me.  Et  maintenant — je  suis 
bien  faible." 

The  night  was  a  perfect  one.  In  front  of  us  stood 
the  palms,  their  leafy  tops  swaying  in  the  breeze  ;  be 
yond  them  was  the  white  moonlit  sea.  Save  for  the 
dull  noise  of  the  waves  on  the  rocks  and  the  mourn- 
full  note  of  some  singer — whose  voice  was  happily 
softened  by  the  distance — we  heard  no  sound.  |The 
little  cottage  wras  embowered  in  flowers,  and  the  whole 
•scene  was  one  of  as  much  beauty  as  that  I  had  looked 
upon  at  Lahaina  the  night  before.  Yet  there  I  had 
been  surrounded  by  men  and  women  in  perfect  health; 
the  men  handsome,  stalwart,  manly;  the  women  as 
beautiful  as  women  could  be.  Here  at  Kalawao  I 
had  seen  no  man  or  woman  who  was  not  far  uglier 
than  death;  hideous,  revolting  libels  on  humanity, 
«very  one. 

As  the  sun  rose  next  morning  I  stood  ready  to  start 
to  climb  out  of  the  Dreadful  Yalley,  into  which  I  had 
so  strangely  and  unwillingly  entered.  Since  my  first 


236 

meeting  with  Kapana  I  had  not  seen  him.  So  many 
things  had  occupied  my  mind  that  I  had  forgotten 
him,  or  if  I  thought  of  him  at  all,  it  was  merely  as  a 
leper — one  of  a  full  six  hundred.  And  since  he  had 
not  come  near  me  again,  I  believed  he  had  forgotten 
me,  which  I  did  not  regret. 

I  was  accompanied  on  my  way  to  the  foot  of  the 
pali,  which  I  was  to  scale,  by  Father  Damien  and  a 
young  native,  Upala  by  name.  He  was  a  descendant 
of  the  original  dwellers  on  Kalawao — an  alii  or  chief 
— and  the  only  one  remaining.  He  was  a  man  of 
great  size,  and  proportionately  strong.  Since  he  knew 
no  English  and  I  but  little  Hawaiian,  our  conversation 
was  necessarily  limited.  As  we  approached  the  tre 
mendous  cliff  it  looked  absolutely  impregnable.  For 
a  few  hundred  feet  above  its  base,  it  was  clothed  in 
a  dense  garment  of  green,  but  beyond  that  rose  a 
blank  wall  in  which  I  could  see  no  mark  nor  crevice. 
At  the  foot  of  the  pali,  Upala,  who  was  leading, 
turned  abruptly  to  the  left  and  skirted  along  its  base- 
until  he  came  to  what  looked  like  an  irregular  flight  of 
steps,  hewn  in  the  solid  rock.  Here  we  halted  and 
waited  for  the  priest,  who  followed  painfully  and 
slowly. 

"  Now  M'sieu,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  could  recover 
hiScbreath,  ".we  must  part.  I  am  very  thankful  for 
this  brief  visit ;  it  has  given  me  great  pleasure,  but 
you  must  go."  I  held  out  my  hand  to  him. 

"  No,  my  son,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  sadly. 
"  You  must  not  touch  me;  but  I  give  you  my  blessing, 
and  I  rejoice  that  I  can  send  one  out  of  Molokai  who 
is  not  unclean.  Say  to  the  beautiful  world  you  are 


UP   THE    PALI.  237 

going  back  to,  that  I  arn  doing  Christ's  work  here, 
and  that  I  am  happy  in  that  work.  Say  that  the  holy 
message  of  the  church  daily  carries  comfort  to  these 
poor  doomed  wretches.  And  now,  adieu ; — Pax 
vobis  cum  !  "  and  he  was  gone.* 

Once  out  of  the  grove,  we  halted  to  rest,  for  the 
sun  was  already  hot  and  scorching.  Then  I  perceived 
-a  narrow,  zig-zag  mark  on  the  face  of  the  wall,  which 
was  the  path  we  were  to  follow.  At  first  the  ascent 
was  easy,  not  steep  nor  perilous ;  then  it  grew  more 
difficult,  broken  by  ragged  steps,  or  the  path  sloped 
away  from  the  face  of  the  cliff,  until  it  seemed  to 
give  no  hold  for  hand  or  foot.  More  and  more  slowly  we 
went ;  once  we  came  to  an  abrupt  termination  of  the 
path — a  wall  of  rock  rose  in  front  of  us.  But  we 
surmounted  this  in  some  way,  how  I  cannot  now 
recollect,  and  then  paused  to  rest. 

At  first  I  dared  not  look  over  the  edge,  but  in  a  few 
minutes  my  nerves  became  adjusted  to  the  situation,  and 
I  enjoyed  the  sight.  We  were  half  way  up  ihepali, 
fifteen  hundred  feet  in  the  air.  Off  in  the  shadowy 
•distance,  I  could  see  Maui,  but  that  was  all  that 

*  The  splendid  self-sacrifice  of  Father  Damien  is  only  one  of  many 
instances  of  this  kind.  Twelve  sisters  of  the  Franciscan  Convent  of 
St.  Anthony,  at  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  have  gone  to  Hawaii  within  the  last 
three  years,  and  have  devoted  their  lives  to  this  work.  Seven  of  them, 
Mother  Marianne  and  Sisters  Crescentia,  Martha,  Leopoldina,  Carolina, 
Irene  and  Cyrilla  are  now  living  in  Honolulu,  in  charge  of  the  Leper 
Hospital  and  the  Kapiolani  Home  for  leper  children.  Four  of  them, 
Sisters  Bonaventura,  Renata,  Ludovica  and  Benedicta  are  at  the  Malu- 
lani  Hospital,  at  Wailuku,  on  the  island  of  Maui.  The  twelfth,  Sister 
Antonella,  is  dead.  The  work  these  noble  women  are  accomplishing  is 
beyond  praise.  They  have  not  been  permitted  to  go  to  Molokai,  though 
the  writer  was  told  by  one  of  them  that  she  was  willing  and  anxious  to 
•do  so,  and  only  waited  the  consent  of  her  Superior. 


238 

specked  the  blue  expanse  of  water.  Below  was  the- 
triangle  of  land,  its  outlines  sharply  defined  by  the 
black  rocks  that  formed  its  boundaries.  Two  clusters 
of  tiny  white  houses  marked  the  leper  villages  of 
Kalawao  and  Kalaupapa.  Near  the  centre  of  the 
triangle  was  a  great  yawning  hole,  its  black  sides 
uncovered  with  green.  This  was  the  dead  crater 
of  Kahukoo,  and  as  the  shadows  just  then  fell  upon  it, 
it  seemed  to  be  bottomless — a  fit  burial-place  for  the 
lepers.  Here  and  tnere  I  could  see  moving  specks, 
but  a  merciful  distance  at  last  veiled  their  hideousness. 

Up  and  up  we  went  once  more  ;  the  path  grew  nar 
rower  and  more  slippery.  Once  I  should  have  fallen 
if  Upala  had  not  caught  my  arm.  I  shuddered  as  I 
saw  the  huge  piece  of  rock  on  which  I  had  been  stand 
ing  slip  away  from  the  wall  and  plunge  into  the  abyss 
beneath.  I  waited  in  vain  to  hear  it  strike  ;  we  were 
too  far  above  it  for  the  sound  to  reach  us,  for  we  were 
suspended  mid-way  between  sea  and  sky.  The  higher 
we  went  the  further  off  seemed  the  summit,  and  the 
more  fearful  the  gulf  below  looked.  Nothing  but 
the  horror  of  returning  again  into  the  Dreadful 
Yalley  drove  me  on. 

At  last  we  reached  the  top,  hot,  parched  and 
trembling  with  weakness.  If  it  had  been  twenty 
feet  further  I  should  never  have  succeeded.  Even 
Upala,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  such  work — he  had 
ascended  and  decended  ihepali  hundreds  of  times — 
was  completely  exhausted.  To  add  to  our  discomfort 
Jhe  sun  which  had  all  along  been  shining  hotly,  was 
suddenly  obscured,  and  a  hard  rain  set  in.  We  were 
enveloped  in  mist,  and  the  Dreadful  Valley  below  us 


BACK    AT    LAHAINA.  239 

was  shut  out  of  sight.  I  was  not  sorry ;  I  had  seen 
enough  of  it  and  its  horrors.  If  I  could  only  forget 
everything  about  it  but  the  memory  of  its  guardian 
angel,  Father  Damien ! 

At  five  that  afternoon  we  reached  Hulahoke,  and 
two  days  later  I  was  again  carried  through  the  surf  at 
Lahaina  in  a  canoe — but  this  time  I  was  alone. 

IY. 

"And  so  you've  spent  the  last  week  in  travel,  Jack ! " 
said  the  Doctor  to  me,  as  once  again  I  found  myself 
seated  at  the  Colonel's  dinner  table.  "  Well,  and 
where  have  you  been  and  what  have  you  seen,  if  I 
may  presume  to  ask  ?  " 

"  I  have  walked  through  the  Valley  of  Death,"  I 
said,  "  and  I  have  seen  the  Serpent  in  Paradise." 

Somehow,  I  did  not  feel  like  telling  my  story  that 
evening,  though  urged  by  the  Doctor  to  do  so.  Every 
thing  was  too  fresh  in  my  mind ;  the  sights  I  had 
lately  seen  I  remembered  so  vividly  that  I  could  not 
then  describe  them  without  a  return  of  the  same  hor 
ror  I  felt  as  I  looked  upon  the  lepers.  And  so  it  was 
but  a  short  time  before  we  rose  and  went  out  into  the 
open  air.  As  we  stepped  upon  the  veranda,  Van 
took  my  arm  and  led  me  off  into  a  dark  corner. 

"Jack!"  he  said  seriously,  "I've  got  something  to  say 
to  you,  and  this  is  my  first  chance.  Do  you  know  I 
don't  believe  there  is  any  serpent  here ;  this  place  is 
a  pure,  unadulterated  Eden.  Look  there  if  you  don't 
believe  me." 

I  turned  and  saw  the  ladies,  as  once  before  I  had 
seen  them,  seated  just  where  the  moonlight  touched 


240 

their  white  dresses  and  soft  rounded  shoulders  ;  I  saw 
the  leis  about  their  necks  and  the  roses  in  their  hair, 
but  I  did  not  see,  as  I  almost  feared  I  should,  the  glassy 
eyes  and  heavy  brows  of  Kapana.  As  we  stood  there, 
looking  on  the  fair  sight,  one  of  the  group  turned  her 
head,  as  if  to  look  at  us,  and  the  moonlight  showed  the 
lovely  face  of  Louise. 

"  And  Jack  !  "  whispered  Yan  earnestly ;  "  see 
there  !  Didn't  I  tell  you  !  She — Louise — some  day 
will — that  is — Jack — we're  engaged  !  " 

Faith,  I  didn't  wonder  then  that  Yan  thought  La- 
haina  the  new  Paradise ;  so  should  I  if  I  had  been  in 
his  place,  or  if  I  could  only  have  forgotton  Molokai. 

"  And  Jack !  "  he  continued  ;  "  there  is  something 
else.  Do  you  know,  old  man,  you've  changed  tre 
mendously  since  the  other  day.  Seem  to  have  grown 
older.  You  can't  be  in  love — for  that  makes  a  man 
feel  young.  I  can  almost  fancy  myself  a  young  man 
to-night."  (The  venerable  speaker  was  in  his  twenty- 
second  year).  "  I  wonder  if  you  know  how  white  your 
hair  is." 

"  By  the  way,  Jack !  "  said  the  Doctor,  as  Yan  and  I 
returned  to  our  chairs;  "there's  one  thing  you  cer 
tainly  can  tell  us.  What  has  become  of  Kapana  ? 
The  ladies  are  anxious  to  know." 

But  even  that  I  could  not  tell  them — then. 


XIII.  THE  HOIK  OF  EVERLASTING  FIRE. 

FIRST    LEGEND. 

An  ancient  Hawaiian  legend*  relates,  that :  "  Once 
upon  a  time  the  wicked  goddess  Pele  dwelt  in  the  fiery 
lake  of  Hale-mau-mau,  Home  of  Everlasting  Fire,  in 
the  volcano  of  Kilauea.  Here  in  the  midst  of  the 
flames  she  held  her  court,  surrounded  by  her  atten 
dant  sprites;  the  unearthly  noises  of  the  burning 
mass  were  the  music  of  their  dances  and  revelry,  and 
they  bathed  in  the  red  surf  of  the  fiery  billows  that 
dashed  against  the  sides  of  the  crater. 

"  Pele  was  the  chief  goddess.  Her  principal  fol 
lowers  were  Ka-ma-hu-alii,  King  of  Steam;  Ka-poha- 
i-JcaJii-ola,  King  of  the  Explosions  in  the  Palace  of 
Life ;  Ke-ua-Tte-po,  god  of  the  Night  Rains ;  Kane- 
hekili,  god  of  Thunder  and  Ke-o-ahikama-kaua, 
Fire-Thrusting  Child  of  War.  These  were  brothers, 
and  like  Vulcan,  two  of  them  were  deformed. 
Makole-wawahi-waa,  Fiery -eyed  Canoe-breaker;  Ili- 
aJca-wawahi-lani,  Heaven-dwelling  Cloud-breaker, 
and  several  others  of  longer  names  and  similar  defin 
itions.  These  latter  were  sisters. 

"  The  whole  family  were  regarded  with  the  great 
est  awe.  The  volcano  was  their  principal  residence, 
but  occasionally  they  renovated  their  constitutions 

*  Jarves'  History  of  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 

(241) 


242  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIKE. 

amid  the  snows  of  the  mountains.  At  such  times 
their  journeys  were  accompanied  by  earthquakes, 
eruptions,  and  heavy  thunder  and  lightning.  All  were 
malignant  spirits,  delighting  in  acts  of  vengeance  and 
destruction.  The  numerous  eruptions  with  which  the 
island  was  devastated,  were  ascribed  to  their  enmity. 
"Pele  was  of  a  particularly  vengeful  disposition; 
her  greatest  pleasure  was  to  destroy,  and  often,  with 
out  the  slightest  cause,  she  would  turn  loose  her 
dreadful  messengers  and  ravage  the  land.  The  least 
irregularity  in  her  worship,  a  failure  in  the  observ 
ance  of  the  smallest  ceremony,  was  enough  to  precipi 
tate  death  and  destruction  upon  the  people.  The 
natives  were  the  slaves  of  her  priests,  a  numerous  and 
wealthy  body,  who  were  held  in  the  highest  reverence, 
and  were  thought  to  control  the  fires  of  the  all-power 
ful  goddess.  To  insult  them,  break  their  taboo,  or 
neglect  to  send  offerings  was  to  call  down  certain 
destruction. 

"  Pele  had  also  a  very  implacable  spirit,  arid  when 
once  aroused  nothing  but  some  great  sacrifice  would 
appease  her.  Vast  numbers  of  hogs  were  thrown  into 
the  crater  of  Kilauea  when  any  fear  of  an  eruption 
was  entertained,  or  to  stay  one  already  begun.  Offer 
ings  were  annually  made  to  keep  her  in  good-humor, 
and  no  traveler  dared  venture  near  her  precincts  with 
out  seeking  her  good  will. 

Often,  ordinary  sacrifices  proved  unavailing,  and 
human  victims  were  offered  up  to  mollify  her  devilish 
anger ;  and  there  is  no  tradition  extant,  wherein  such 
an  offering  is  said  to  have  proved  unavailing.  And 


HUMAN    SACRIFICE. 

the  higher  the  rank  of  the  victim  the  sooner  was  Pele 
appeased. 

Once  the  great  King,  Kamehameha  I,  sought  to 
check  a  vast  river  of  lava  flowing  down  from  Mauna 
Hualalai,  and  which  was  carrying  destruction  to  all 
the  land.  Many  lives  and  much  property  had  been 
destroyed,  and  still  the  flow  continued.  Thereupon, 
Kamehameha,  attended  by  a  large  retinue  of  chiefs 
and  priests,  approached  the  river,  and  having  cut  off 
a  piece  of  his  own  hair,  threw  it  into  the  burning 
lava,  after  proper  incantations,  and  the  flow  stopped. 

In  Hawaii  it  is  known  to  be  true  that  the  sacrifice 
of  a  single  victim  of  the  rank  of  Alii  or  Chief,  will 
instantly  check  the  most  violent  eruption,  when  every 
other  offering  has  failed  to  assuage  Pele's  anger.  And 
it  is  believed  to  this  day,  that  the  goddess  dwells  in 
Hale-mau-mau,  the  Home  of  Everlasting  Fire,  and 
that  the  earthquakes  and  eruptions  that  devastate  the 
land  from  time  to  time,  are  the  evidences  of  her  evil 
disposition,  excited  by  some  slight  or  accident. 

SECOND    LEGEND. 

Another  legend  runneth  thus  :  Once  upon  a  time 
— a  good  many  thousand  years  ago,  in  fact — volcanic 
fires  were  burning  upon  all  the  Hawaiian  islands. 
Then  there  dwelt  in  the  huge  pit  of  Haleakala  (House 
of  the  Sun),  upon  the  island  of  Maui,  a  fierce  and 
wicked  demon,  Wahokiho  by  name.  This  volcano  of 
Haleakala  was  the  largest  in  the  world,  being  more 
than  twenty-five  miles  in  circumference,  and  filled  to- 
the  very  brim  with  molten  lava.  And  while  the 
demon  lived  in  the  House  of  the  Sun,  Pele  dwelt  in, 


THE    HOME    OF    EVEKLASTING    FIRE. 

the  Home  of  Everlasting  Fire,  upon  the  adjacent 
island  of  Hawaii. 

Ever  since  the  beginning  of  time  these  two  evil 
spirits  had  been  bitter  enemies,  and  each  had  striven 
to  overwhelm  the  other.  Long  before  Man  appeared 
this  contest  raged,  and  language  is  taxed  to  describe 
the  terrible  battles  between  the  two,  backed  as  they 
were  by  the  gigantic  forces  of  the  burning  world,  and 
.-actuated  by  a  fiercer  than  human  hate.  For  hundreds 
of  years  the  combat  lasted;  the  atmosphere  was  black 
with  dense,  sulphurous  clouds  of  smoke ;  there  was 
no  sun ;  the  ocean  was  boiling  hot ;  millions  of  tons 
of  molten  lava  were  vomited  forth,  and  in  time  the 
Hawaiian  islands  were  formed,  built  up  from  the  bot 
tom  of  the  Pacific. 

For  a  long  time  the  struggle  \vas  a  very  even  one, 
but  at  length  the  demon,  being  a  little  the  stronger, 
began  to  get  the  better  of  the  goddess.  Then  she, 
f  orseeing  her  inevitable  destruction,  begged  for  peace, 
and  sent  a  messenger  to  Wahokiho,  acknowledging 
his  superior  power,  and  praying  him  not  to  destroy 
her.  The  demon  replied  that  he  would  spare  her  if 
-she  would  become  his  wife.  At  this  Pele  demurred, 
for  in  the  Hawaiian  mythology,  the  rank  of  a  god 
dess  is  far  above  that  of  a  demon.  She  took  several 
•days  to  think  over  the  matter,  and  Wahokiho,  becom 
ing  impatient,  renewed  his  attack.  Thereupon  Pele 
hastily  accepted  his  terms  and  married  him. 

As  neither  Wahokiho  nor  Pele  were  allowed  to  ap 
pear  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth,  the  demon  dug 
for  himself  a  tunnel,  running  under  the  sea,  between 
Haleaka  and  Hale-mau-mau,  and  through  this  passage 


A    PANORAMA    OF   THE    WORLD.  245- 

he  used  to  go,  when  visiting  his  own  or  his  wife's 
house.  And  the  story  relates  that  from  the  marriage 
of  the  two  dates  the  failing  of  the  fires  in  the  House 
of  the  Sun.  For,  being  no  longer  actuated  by  hatred 
against  Pele,  and  being,  in  point  of  fact,  henpecked, 
the  demon  neglected  his  duties  as  fireman,  and  little 
by  little  Haleakala  grew  cold,  until  at  last  it  died  out 
entirely. 

Then  Pele,  having  Wahokiho  in  her  power,  and 
hating  him  worse  than  ever  since  she  became  his  wife, 
drove  him  out  into  the  world,  and  he  is  believed  to- 
have  perished  miserably,  for  nothing  was  ever  after 
wards  heard  of  him. 

DESCRIPTION. 

Upon  the  island  of  Hawaii  is  Hilo,  its  capital.  As 
we  enter  the  mouth  of  the  bay  on  which  it  stands,  we 
see  before  us  a  panorama  of  the  whole  world.  The  ca 
noe  in  which  we  are  seated  floats  upon  the  broad  bosom 
of  the  blue  Pacific,  that  heaves  in  long,  deep  respira 
tions—soundless  until  the  waves  finally  break  in  surf 
upon  the  beach.  There  we  see  groups  of  figures; 
white  men,  half-bloods  and  natives ;  some  dressed  in 
European  costumes,  many  only  in  their  dusky  skins. 
They  represent  the  three  divisions  of  men — civilized, 
half-civilized  and  savage. 

The  town  itself  presents  a  delightful  picture  of  a 
tropical  settlement.  It  is  buried  deep  in  foliage,  and 
but  for  a  few  gleaming  spots  of  white,  and  three 
church  spires,  spindling  above  them,  one  can  hardly 
believe  there  is  a  town  there  at  all. 

The  land  about  Hilo  gives  forth  fruits  and  flowers 
with  prodigal  bounty.  The  plantations  of  sugar- 


24:6  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIEE. 

cane  are  the  finest  in  the  world ;  the  kalo  root  grows 
so  abundantly  that  it  is  said  the  product  of  an  acre  of 
ground — made  into  poi— will  feed  a  thousand  men 
for  a  year.  Bananas,  oranges,  and  cocoa-nuts  grow  wild. 
It  rains  almost  daily  in  Hilo,  for  it  is  upon  the  wind 
ward  side  of  the  island,  where  the  moisture-laden 
trade-winds  reach  it,  and  so,  with  the  hot  sun  and 
the  wet  and  eager  earth,  vegetation  is  rank  and  pro 
lific. 

The  eye,  wandering  over  the  scene,  at  first  searches 
in  vain  for  something  noticeable.  A  narrow  strip  of 
white  sand  and  a  few  dark  figures,  indistinctly  outlin 
ed  against  the  back-ground  of  dense,  tropical  foliage 
are  all  one  sees.  But  behind  the  town,  rising  some 
what  steeply,  are  the  rich  lands  and  pastures  of  the 
hill-sides.  Here,  as  below,  almost  the  only  color  is 
green — deep,  rich  and  fresh.  Then,  looking  upward 
still  further,  we  are  attracted  by  two  snow-covered 
mountain  peaks,  nearly  fourteen  thousand  feet  above 
us;  Mauna  Kea,  the  White  Mountain,  upon  the 
right,  and  Mauna  Loa,  the  Great  Mountain,  upon  the 
left ;  both  often  so  veiled  in  clouds  we  cannot  see 
where  the  mountains  end  and  the  mists  begin. 

To  the  left  of  Mauna  Loa,  and  ten  thousand  feet 
below  its  summit,  is  the  volcano  of  Kilauea,  in  which 
is  the  Home  of  Everlasting  Fire.  When  not  hidden 
behind  the  low-flying  clouds  of  the  trade-winds,  we 
see  that  Kilauea,  by  day,  is  surmounted  by  a  pillar  of 
smoke,  that  rises  up  in  air,  until  the  breeze  catches  it 
and  drifts  it  away  to  leaward.  By  night  the  sky  is 
illumined  by  the  glow  from  the  fiery  crater  beneath ; 


FEOM  THE  EQUATOB  TO  THE  POLE. 

a  great  red  canopy  seems  to  be  suspended  from  the 
clouds  and  lends  a  gorgeous  dressing  to  the  scene. 

The  mystery  of  it  all  too,  adds  to  the  fascination, 
for  it  is  very  unearthly  to  see,  through  the  mists  of  a 
dark,  wet  night,  that  dull  glare  up  in  the  sky,  and  to 
hear,  above  the  boom  of  the  surf  that  beats  eternally 
upon  the  beach,  a  long  moaning  sound,  that  some 
times  floats  down  the  mountain  slope.  The  natives 
call  it  Pele's  breathing.  It  is  very  strange,  very  un 
canny,  and  one  cannot  hear  it,  even  for  the  hun 
dredth  time,  without  starting. 

Looking  at  the  land  from  the  bay  then,  we  can  go, 
in  imagination,  from  the  equator  to  the  pole  in  an  in 
stant.  At  the  water's  edge  the  sun  burns  with  a 
tropical  fervor,  and  the  air  is  moist  and  enervating. 
Back  from  the  coast  we  shall  find  the  life  and  vege 
tation  of  the  temperate  zones.  There  we  northerners 
put  aside  that  slothful,  languid  feeling  so  oppressive 
below.  Farther  up — upon  the  summit  of  Mauna  Kea 
— where  the  snow  rests  unmelted  all  the  year  round, 
we  shiver  in  the  polar  temperature  of  perpetual  win 
ter.  In  Hilo  we  wonder  what  is  worse  than  too  much 
heat,  and  look  longingly  up  at  the  snowy  mountain  ; 
upon  Mauna  Kea  we  think  regretfully  of  the  warmth 
of  Hilo  below. 

Besides  the  general  interest  that  every  mountain 
posseses  for  us,  Mauna  Loa  has  a  mysterious  and  awful 
attraction  of  its  own.  For  festering  in  its  side,  like 
vast  leprous  sores  on  a  giant's  body,  are  two  huge 
volcanos,  the  largest  living  fires  in  the  world.  Close 
to  the  very  apex  of  the  mountain  is  the  crater  of  Mo- 
kuaweoweo,  six  miles  in  circumference ;  and  ten 


248  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIRE. 

thousand  feet  below  it  is  Kilanea,  larger  and  fiercer 
than  the  other,  and  within  whose  fiery  precincts  dwells 
the  wicked  goddess,  Pele. 

One  can  form  no  idea  of  the  awfulness  of  the  deso 
lation,  of  the  horrible,  ghastly  ugliness  of  Kilauea, 
until  he  has  stood  upon  the  brink  of  the  crater  and 
looked  down  into  it.  There  are  no  words,  no  matter 
by  whom  put  together,  that  can  describe  the  scene ; 
there  are  no  colors,  no  matter  how  cunningly  mixed 
and  spread,  that  can  picture  it.  One  needs  the  vast- 
ness,  the  huge  dreary  emptiness  of  space  ;  the  deathly 
quiet,  save  for  the  hiss  of  steam  and  the  curl  of  the 
sulphurous  smoke,  that  rises  in  thin  columns  out  of 
the  crater,  to  accent  the  horrors  of  the  place  to  the 
full. 

Riding  up  from  the  sea,  one  comes  upon  Kilauea 
very  suddenly.  The  path  has  led  us  past  sugar  and 
coffee  plantations  and  pasture  lands ;  over  slopes  of 
rough  ad  lava,  so  ragged  and  jagged  as  to  be  absolute 
ly  impassable  except  along  narrow  paths  hewn  across 
them.  Then  over  expanses  of  pahoe-hoe  lava,  where 
we  have  to  pick  a  careful  way,  for  the  fields  are  seamed 
and  honey-combed  with  tunnels  and  subterranean 
chambers.  Once  past  these  dangers,  we  enter  a  dense 
forest,  climb  a  steep  incline,  and  pull  up  our  horses 
just  in  time  to  save  ourselves  from  plunging  into  the 
awful  crater  that  yawns  in  misty  expectancy  at  our 
very  feet. 

At  first  we  do  not  see  it  at  its  worst ;  the  extent  of 
its  hideousness  is  mercifully  hid  by  clouds.  But 
when  at  length  these  are  slowly  rolled  aside,  we  look 
upon  a  scene  that  is  frightful  in  its  malignant  extent 


BY  PELE'S  PIT.  249 

and  desolation.  We  behold  a  deep,  elliptical  pit,  seven 
miles  around,  walled  in  by  cliffs,  eight  hundred  feet 
high.  Everything  before  us  is  black  as  midnight,  and 
the  rocks  are  so  twisted  and  shattered  and  deformed 
as  to  be  absolutely  hideous.  A  floor  of  black  lava 
covers  the  bottom  of  the  crater,  and  here  and  there 
through  it  rise  columns  of  pestilential  vapors,  deadly 
to  life.  It  is  a  picture  of  fearful  desolation,  of  death 
materialized  ;  yet  back  from  the  edge  a  little  way 
vegetation  grows  rankly  and  densely.  It  is  but  one 
more  of  the  amazing  contrasts  one  sees  in  Hawaii. 
Kilauea  has  the  same  place  in  a  landscape  that  the 
leper  would  have  in  a  genre  picture. 

As  if  to  magnify  the  ugliness  of  the  crater,  we  have 
but  to  turn  our  backs  to  the  pit  and  look  upon  the 
magnificent  white  dome  of  Mauna  Loa,  or  farther 
away  and  more  dimly  seen,  the  summit  of  Mauna  Kea, 
both  gleaning  white  and  pure  in  the  sunlight. 

It  is  at  night  that  Kilauea  is  seen  at  its  best,  for 
then  the  darkness  hides  the  black  hole,  and  conceals 
the  vastness  of  the  huge  caldera.  But  by  night  or  day 
we  hear  the  sighing  of  the  wind  among  the  sharp 
rocks  ;  the  faint  hiss  of  steam  and  that  occasional 
moaning  sound,  the  breathing  of  Pele,  that  each  time 
blanches  our  cheeks  and  makes  us  start  in  nervous 
fear.  A  little  tremble  of  the  earth,  a  sound  as  of 
some  giant  gasping  for  breath,  a  pause,  and  then  that 
long  shuddering  sigh — followed  by  a  moment  of  ab 
solute  silence,  that  is  even  more  fearful  than  the 
sounds ;  and  the  whistling  of  the  winds  and  the  hiss 
of  steam  begins  again. 


250  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIRE. 

When  night  falls  upon  the  mountain,  we  have  sight 
for  but  one  thing  in  Lau  Pele  (Pele's  Pit)  and 
that  is  the  Home  of  Everlasting  Fire — wherein 
dwells  the  goddess.  There  are  other  pools  of  molten 
lava  within  the  precincts  of  the  pit,  but  this,  Hale-mau- 
mau,  is  the  one  of  them  all.  It  is  a  long  and  danger 
ous  journey  there  across  the  thin  lava  floor  of  the 
crater.  Great  cracks  yawn  beneath  our  feet,  leading 
down,  perhaps,  to  the  end  of  Infinity.  The  lava  be 
comes  so  hot  that  our  feet  are  blistered,  the  rain  that 
is  falling  becomes  steam ;  yet  still  we  keep  on,  until 
we  reach  a  jagged  wail  of  lava  that  extends  across 
our  path.  Slowly  and  painfully  we  climb  this  and 
then  face  to  face  we  stand  with  the  most  awful  sight 
in  this  world.  For  we  see  nothing  but  the  red  blazes 
of  the  Everlasting  Fire.  It  is  in  front  of  us,  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left  of  us.  Instinctively  we  look 
back,  thinking  we  must  be  surrounded  by  fire,  and 
are  half  disappointed  at  finding  only  black  space  there. 

At  first  the  surface  of  the  molten  lava  is  smooth 
and  glowing,  but  even  as  we  look  it  breaks  forth  into 
violent  motion ;  now  surging  this  way,  now  that,  in 
great  red  billows.  Then,  for  an  instant,  it  lulls,  and 
there  comes  to  us  that  long  deep  sigh  of  Pele's 
breathing,  doubly  startling,  now  that  we  are  standing 
on  the  very  threshhold  of  her  House  of  Fire. 

When  this  sound  has  swept  past  us,  down  the 
mountain,  the  lake  once  more  becomes  agitated,  as  by 
a  storm.  The  force  of  the  billows  of  lava  is  tremen 
dous  ;  they  sway  in  long  waves,  poise  themselves  for 
an  instant  to  gather  fresh  force,  then  rush  onward  and 
dash  against  the  red-hot  walls  of  the  crater  in  burning 


H  ALE-M  AU-MAU.  251 

•surf.  At  intervals  the  glowing  surface  is  skimmed 
over  with  a  thin  coating  of  hardened  lava,  but  this  is 
no  sooner  formed  than  the  heat  shatters  it  with  a 
wicked  crack !  and  the  burning  surface  is  again  ex 
posed.  Everthing  we  see  is  fearful,  overwhelming. 
The  goddess  Pele  must  be  indeed  a  devilish  spirit, 
we  think,  to  dwell  in  such  a  place. 

As  we  stand  watching  the  scene,  a  thick  smoke- 
cloud  slowly  settles  down  over  the  burning  pool,  and 
we  turn  away,  nearly  blinded  with  the  glare.  But 
a  moment  later,  the  wind  brushes  aside  the  dingy 
pall,  and  then  the  lake  appears  in  another  mood. 

At  its  very  centre  are  four  curious  mounds,  or  small 
pyramids,  floating  upon  the  surface  of  the  lava,  and 
rising  and  falling  with  the  hot  billows  of  the  flood. 
From  their  apices  spout  forth  flame  and  sparks,  recall 
ing  the  most  magnificent  fireworks.  And  as  we  watch 
them,  they  slowly  separate,  and  in  couples  move  to 
opposite  sides  of  the  lake.  Then  they  advance  again 
toward  the  centre,  pause,  swing  with  majestic  undul 
ations  upon  a  high  rolling  wave,  and  slowly  retire  to 
the  edge.  They  seem  to  be  dancing  a  minuet. 
Again  and  again  is  this  repeated,  faster  and  faster  do 
they  move,  until  at  last  the  black  smoke  sweeps  down 
over  the  scene,  shutting  it  out  from  view,  and  we 
hurry  away.  Darkness  falls  upon  everything,  and 
slowly  and  wearily  we  grope  our  way  back  over  the 
treacherous  floor  of  the  crater,  and  once  more  stand 
upon  the  firm  footing  of  the  rocks  about  the  Pit.  The 
smoke  has  cleared  away  over  the  lake  and  the  misty 
sky  is  red  with  the  light  from  the  Home  of 
Everlasting  Fire.  And  as  we  watch  the  waving  blaze, 


252  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIRE. 

there  comes  to  us  the  hoarse  rumble,  a  shock — a  pause 
— and  that  long,  deep  sigh,  as  of  a  dying  giant,  so  mys 
terious  and  awful — the  breathing  of  Pele.  Hardly  has 
it  passed  when  we  see  the  ruddy  glow  in  the  sky 
grow  pale,  and  looking  of!  towards  the  east,  behold 
the  sun  rising  up  out  of  the  sea,  once  more  to  show 
us  new  horrors  and  to  announce  the  end  and  the  begin 
ning  of  a  new  chapter. 

HISTORY. 

In  the  annals  of  Hawaii  this  is  related  :  That  once 
upon  a  time — not  very  many  years  ago — two  travelers 
had  journeyed  over  the  island  of  Hawaii ;  had  ascend 
ed  Mauna  Hualalai,  Mauna  Kea  and  Mauna  Loa  ;  had 
looked  into  the  volcano  of  Kilauea  and  stood  upon  the 
brink  of  Hale-mau-mau,  the  Home  of  Everlasting 
Fire.  Then,  surfeited  at  last  with  the  horrors  of  the 
place,  they  had  descended  the  mountain  toward  the 
sea.  Stopping  at  noon  at  the  small  grass  hut  of  a 
native,  they  left  their  horses  there,  and  started  to 
make  a  short  excursion  on  foot,  across  an  immense 
field  of  pahoe-hoe  lava,  that  lay  at  their  right  hand. 

It  is  known  that  the  hills  and  mountains  of  Hawaii,. 
being  of  lava,  are  undermined  by  subterranean  passages 
and  chambers,  which  pierce  them  with  a  vast  net 
work  of  tunnels  and  galleries.  These  are  created  by 
the  cooling  of  the  lava-flow  upon  the  surface,  thus 
forming  a  crust,  from  under  which  the  molten  sub 
stance  beneath  glides.  Often,  merely  short,  blind 
leads  are  thus  made,  but  not  seldom  several  passages 
are  united  and  form  a  curious  labyrinth,  in  which  one 
unacquainted  with  the  clue  might  easily  become  lost. 


THE    DEAD    CRATEK.  253 

As  the  two  travelers,  accompanied  by  a  native  guide, 
were  making  their  way  with  some  difficulty  over  the 
billowy  surface  of  the  pahoe-hoe,  they  came  suddenly 
upon  a  small  opening  in  the  field.  It  was  circular, 
about  a  hundred  yards  in  diameter,  an  extinct  crater 
plainly,  and  though  its  fires  had  been  dead  for  cen 
turies,  its  steeply  sloping  sides  were  still  bare  of 
vegetation.  The  black  rocks  were  covered  with  a 
green,  slimy  ooze,  and  the  pool  of  stagnant  water  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hole  was  jet-black,  smooth  and 
glassy  as  a  leper's  eye.  A  dank  haze,  which  even  the 
hot  sun  could  not  dispel,  hung  over  the  opening,  and 
the  only  sign  of  life  visible  was  an  unhealthy  fungus, 
that  clung  here  and  there  to  the  slippery  rocks  with 
vice-like  tenacity.  Everything  spoke  of  death  ;  the 
crater  seemed  as  if  it  might  be  some  ghastly  charnel 
pit,  and  the  mist  that  overhung  it  had  that  sickening 
odor  we  associate  with  such  places. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  its  repulsive  appearance,  the  travel 
ers  resolved  to  descend  into  it  and  seek  a  little  shelter 
from  the  burning  sun,  which  was  fairly  splitting  their 
heads  with  its  fierce  rays.  In  the  wall  of  the  crater 
—opposite  to  where  they  stood — was  a  narrow,  verti 
cal  gash,  disclosing  a  passageway  leading  somewhere 
into  the  lava  field,  and  they  thought  that  in  the  shadow 
of  this  tunnel  they  should  find  some  protection. 

With  much  difficulty  they  made  their  way  down  the 
slippery  rocks  to  the  opening,  and  entered  it.  The 
change  from  the  heat  and  glare  without  to  the  cool, 
half-light  within  was  very  grateful  to  the  men. 
Except  for  the  reflection  that  came  through  the  en 
trance,  the  tunnel  was  dark,  but  they  could  see  that  it 


254  THE    HOME    OF   EVERLASTING    FIEE. 

stretched  out  before  them  into  the  heart  of  the  lava 
field,  until  its  walls  seemed  to  come  together  in  a 
sharp  point,  with  that  curious  effect  in  perspective- 
noticed  in  long  tunnels.  The  roof  of  the  passageway 
was  out  of  reach ;  the  walls  about  ten  feet  apart. 

The  curiosity  of  the  two  men  was  excited  by  the 
singularity  of  the  place  they  found  themselves  in, 
and  after  a  short  rest  they  started  to  explore  it  a  lit 
tle.  But  by  neither  threat  nor  persuasion  could  they 
induce  their  native  guide  to  accompany  them.  He 
insisted  that  it  was  dangerous ;  that  they  were  com 
ing  within  forbidden  limits  and  that  Pele  would  be 
angry  at  them  for  trespassing ;  that  they  would  be 
suffocated  by  gas  and  that  they  ran  in  the  way  of  a 
hundred  other  dangers.  So  they  left  him  at  the  tun 
nel's  mouth  and  started  on  without  him. 

They  had  advanced  but  a  few  rods,  when  a  turn  in 
the  passage  shut  off  the  light  from  behind  them,  and 
they  halted,  irresolute.  Neither  was  timid,  but  the 
overwhelming  horrors  of  Kilauea  were  fresh  in  their 
minds,  and  they  felt  themselves  still  under  the  spell 
of  the  volcano.  But  when  their  eyes  had  become  ac 
customed  to  the  darkness,  they  thought  they  could  see 
a  very  faint  glimmer  of  light  ahead  of  them,  and  to 
ward  this  they  proceeded.  Taught  by  the  experience 
acquired  in  their  explorations  in  Hawaii,  they  ad 
vanced  with  great  care,  never  taking  a  step  until  they 
were  certain  it  was  safe.  The  darkness  of  the  passage 
made  this  necessary,  and  it  was  well  they  were  thus 
prudent,  for  twice  they  stayed  their  feet  upon  the 
edges  of  bottomless  chasms,  whose  existence  they  dis 
covered  only  by  feeling  their  faces  fanned  by  the  cur- 


THE    SUBTERRANEAN    CHAMBER.  255 

rents-  of  air  that  rose  out  of  them,  and  hearing,  far 
beneath  them,  the  faint  sound  of  falling  waters. 

But  the  crevices  were  narrow,  and  across  them  the 
men  sprang  and  went  on.  As  they  advanced  the  light 
grew  stronger,  until  the  tunnel  widened  and  they 
found  themselves  in  a  large  chamber.  An  opening  in 
the  roof,  where  the  lava  crust  had  fallen  in,  served  to 
admit  the  light,  and  the  two  explorers  saw  that  the 
room  was  circular  in  form,  and  about  fifty  feet  in 
diameter.  The  roof,  which  was  thirty  feet  from  the 
floor,  was  supported  by  irregularly  placed  columns  of 
twisted  lava. 

Walking  around  the  periphery  of  the  room,  the 
men  noticed  three  passages  leading  out  of  it.  One  was 
that  by  which  they  had  entered;  the  other  two  led  off 
somewhere  into  the  heart  of  the  great  lava  field  un 
der  which  they  were.  Near  the  centre  of  the  chamber, 
and  directly  beneath  the  opening  in  the  roof,  was  a 
symmetrically  shaped  block  of  lava,  not  unlike  the 
frustum  of  a  pyramid,  its  base  being  about  four  feet 
square,  and  its  height  five  feet ;  upon  its  four  faces 
were  rude  carvings  and  hieroglyphs,  wholly  undeci 
pherable.  A  thick  covering  of  dust  and  fine  ashes 
lay  upon  everything,  and  showed  plainly  that  it  was 
long  since  the  chamber  had  been  visited  by  man. 

Upon  the  floor,  at  the  base  of  the  pyramid,  the  ex 
plorers  found  a  very  small  and  grotesquely  carved 
idol.  It  was  lying  upon  its  side,  almost  buried  in  the 
dust,  and  had  evidently  fallen  there  from  the  top  of 
the  pile.  The  blow  had  split  it  through  the  very 
centre,  but  the  two  halves  were  still  joined  by  a  few 
tough  slivers.  The  image  was  made  of  some  dark,  heavy 


256  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIKE. 

wood,  and  emitted  a  faint  odor,  not  unlike  that  of 
sandal-wood. 

Searching  further  in  the  chamber,  'the  men  found 
four  worn  and  tattered  Kahilis — great  tufts  of  feath 
ers,  mounted  upon  bamboo  poles,  and  often  used  in 
native  ceremonies.  They  also  discovered  three  heavy, 
knotted  clubs,  such  as  were  sometimes  carried  by 
warriors  and  priests,  and  used  by  them  with  deadly 
effect ;  and  a  pile  of  calabashes,  lying  in  a  confused 
heap  in  the  darkest  part  of  the  room  and  covered 
with  dust  and  fine  ashes. 

In  spite  of  the  ventilating  aperture  in  the  roof,  the  air 
was  strongly  impregnated  with  sulphurous  .gases,  and 
the  men,  finding  themselves  becoming  affected  by  the 
fumes,  started  hurriedly  for  the  exit.  As  they  did  so 
one  of  them  picked  up  the  little  idol — it  was  no  larger 
than  a  common  doll — and  placed  it  in  the  pocket  of 
his  shooting-coat.  Halting  an  instant,  in  doubt  as  to 
which  passage  they  should  take,  they  heard  hurrying 
toward  them,  from  somewhere  in  the  heart  of  the 
great  mountain,  the  long,  deep  sigh  of  Pele's  breathing. 
They  felt  a  blast  of  wind,  rushing  out  of  the  tunnel — 
then  came  the  moaning,  faint  at  first,  then  growing 
louder- — a  hoarse  rumble,  and  the  rocks  about  them 
creaked  and  splintered  in  the  shock  of  an  earthquake. 
The  men  had  never  heard  these  sounds  so  distinctly 
before,  nor  felt  the  breath  of  the  spirit  blowing  on 
their  faces,  and  these  gave  an  unpleasant  reality  to  the 
superstition.  The  awful  fear  which  an  earthquake 
always  engenders  in  the  bravest,  seized  them,  and  for 
an  instant  they  were  helpless.  But  with  the  passing 
of  the  shock,  they  recovered  their  self-possession, 


LIFE    IN    HILO.  257 

and  hurried  from  the  tunnel  out  into  the  sunlight 
again,  and  so  on  down  to  Hilo. 

And  in  the  course  of  time,  they  departed  from  Ha 
waii  and  went  into  other  lands,  and  saw  new  sights, 
but  before  doing  so  they  were  received  by  the  Princess 
Likelike,  sister  of  the  reigning  king,  Kalakaua,  and 
Governess  of  the  island  of  Hawaii.  And  to  her,  as  a 
present,  the  travelers  gave  the  grotesque  little  idol 
which  they  had  found  in  the  chamber  in  the  great 
iield  of  pahoe-hoe,  and  the  Princess  accepted  the  gift, 
and  thanked  them.  Then  they  sailed  away  and 
Hawaii  nei  knew  them  no  more. 

The  people  of  Hilo  had  lived  so  long  under  the 
charm  of  their  environment,  had  so  yielded  themselves 
to  the  influences  of  the  enervating  climate  of  the 
place,  and  to  the  absolute  freedom  from  care  that  was 
their  birthright,  that  they  had  come  to  believe  the 
world  was  made  solely  for  them.  Living  though  they 
did  within  the  shadows  of  two  terrible  volcanoes, 
wherein  fires  were  forever  burning,  they  forgot  the 
threat  thus  constantly  extended,  or  believed  that 
nothing  could  awaken  those  fires  into  activity.  If 
they  thought  at  all,  it  was  that  within  the  boundaries 
of  Hawaii  might  be  found  both  the  beginning  and  the 
•end  of  the  world.  The  Pacific  lay  broad  before  them, 
but  it  led  to  nowhere,  they  believed  ;  it  was  only  water, 
and  there  were  no  paths  on  the  water.  And  so  they 
passed  their  days  in  idleness  and  pleasure,  and  gave  no 
thought  for  anything  save  the  Now. 

Therefore  they  did  not  notice  that  night  after 
night  the  clouds  that  had  overhung  Kilauea  since 
before  their  traditions  began,  were  now  slowly  grow- 


258  THE    HOME    OF   EVERLASTING   FIRE. 

ing  brighter;  nor  that  day  by  day,  the  column  of 
smoke  grew  denser  and  blacker,  and  spread  out  over 
the  cloudy  sky  until  the  daylight  became  dusk. 

They  may  have  perceived  that  the  shuddering  sound 
of  Pele's  breathing  came  more  frequently  hurrying 
down  the  mountain  slopes,  to  startle  them  from  their 
sleep  or  revelry,  but  with  the  thoughtlessness  of  their 
race,  they  noticed  it  only  to  forget  it. 

Within  the  Home  of  Everlasting  Fire,  a  great  change 
had  taken  place  since  the  two  travelers  stood  upon  its 
brink.  The  molten  lava  had  risen  in  the  Pit,  until  the 
immense  caldera  was  full  to  the  brim  of  a  white-hot 
fluid  that  surged  now  this  way,  now  that,  in  desperate 
efforts  to  beat  down  the  walls  that  hemmed  it  in, 
Yet  for  a  long  time  the  rocks  resisted  the  blows,  and 
the  people  of  Hilo  lived  on,  undisturbed  by  the  im 
pending  danger. 

But  one  night,  they  were  suddenly  awakened  to  a 
realization  of  their  peril.  The  land  was  shaken  by 
violent  earthquakes ;  we  are  told  that  three  hundred 
and  ninety-one  heavy  shocks  were  felt  in  twenty- 
four  hours;  the  earth  was  never  quite  still.  The 
sound  of  Pele's  breathing  was  heard  with  alarming 
frequency,  coming  louder  and  more  distinct  each 
time ;  the  column  of  smoke  above  the  Pit  became 
denser  than  the  air,  and  cooling  as  it  rose,  rolled  back 
down  the  slopes,  darkening  the  streets  of  Hilo,  and 
then  slowly  drifted  out  to  sea.  By  night,  the  heavens 
were  ablaze,  and  the  land  was  lighted  up  as  if  it  were 
sun-time. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  the  swaying  of  the  earth  ceased; 
the  side  of  the  mountain  was  cleft,  as  if  with  a  gigantic 


RELENTLESS    PELE. 

axe,  and  through  this  opening  there  gushed  a  river 
of  molten  lava,  that  hurried  on  its  destructive  way  to 
the  sea. 

Down  the  slope  it  crept — a  huge,  glowing  stream 
four  miles  wide — scorching,  terrrible,  irresistible. 
It  withered  the  forests  with  its  fiery  breath,  and 
turned  the  streams  into  vapor.  It  plowed  down 
hills  and  filled  up  valleys ;  nothing  could  delay  its- 
steady  advance. 

The  natives,  at  last  aroused  from  their  apathy,  be 
came  wild  with  terror.  They  ascribed  the  eruption  to 
Pele,  and  sought  by  all  known  means  to  propitiate 
her.  Every  sort  of  sacrifice  was  offered  up ;  cattle 
and  hogs  by  the  hundreds ;  calabashes  of  poi,  fruit, 
flowers ;  everything  that  tradition  showed  had  hereto 
fore  been  acceptable  to  the  goddess— everything  but 
human  life. 

Yet  still  the  flow  continued,  rolling  daily  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  sea,  and  still  the  volcano  gave  no 
signs  of  abating.  All  accounts  agree  that  the  scene 
was  one  of  awful  grandeur — an  exhibition  of  terrible 
and  relentless  power.  Many  of  the  very  old  or  very 
young  died  overcome  by  terror.  The  teachings  of 
civilization  were  forgotten  by  the  Hawaiians,  and 
Pele  was  worshiped  as  she  had  been  before  the  islands 
were  discovered  by  the  white  men.  Yet  all  the  offer 
ings  made  to  propitiate  her  were  of  no  avail ;  the 
mighty  red-hot  river  still  held  its  slow,  persistent  way 
down  to  Hilo. 

Then  there  appeared — no  one  knew  whence  he 
came — an  old  man,  who  announced  that  he  wasKanoa, 
a  high  priest  of  Pele.  He  was  of  gigantic  stature,. 


'260  THE    HOME   OF    EVERLASTING    FIKE. 

and  though  of  great  age,  carried  himself  as  upright 
as  a  youth.  He  declared  that  the  flow  was  an  evi 
dence  of  the  goddess's  anger,  and  that  unless  she  were 
immediately  pacified,  Hilo  and  all  it  contained  would 
be  destroyed.  He  told  the  people  that  Pele  was  pro 
voked  because  one  of  her  secret  temples  had  been 
invaded  by  impious  strangers,  the  taboo  broken,  and 
an  idol  carried  away.  This  idol,  Kanoa  said,  was 
Wahokiho,  once  the  husband  of  Pele,  and  demon  of 
the  House  of  the  Sun.  By  her  direction,  it  had  been 
placed  in  a  temple  in  the  heart  of  Mauna  Loa,  when 
;she  drove  him  out  into  the  world  ;  and  the  priest  pre 
dicted  that  with  the  release  of  Wahokiho  from  con 
finement,  the  fires  of  Haleakala  would  soon  be  re 
kindled  and  the  old  fight  between  the  demon  and 
the  goddess  would  be  resumed. 

This  prediction,  coming  at  such  a  time,  added  to  the 
terror  of  the  excitable  natives,  and  they  clamored 
loudly  for  the  punishment  of  the  men  who  had  broken 
Pele's  taboo.  The  Princess  Likelike,  albeit  a  well- 
educated,  intelligent  woman,  became  herself  influenced 
by  the  popular  superstition  ;  and  from  the  fact  that 
^he  had  been  the  custodian  of  the  idol,  ignorant  of  its 
name  and  character,  she  believed  that  she  had  become 
the  object  of  Pele's  wrath,  and  that  nothing  but  her 
death  as  a  sacrifice  would  save  Hilo  and  its  people 
from  total  annihilation.  This  superstition  was  shared 
by  the  Hawaiians  almost  without  exception,  although 
a  few  of  the  mosf  intelligent  believed  that  the  re 
turning  of  the  idol  to  Pele  would  suffice  to  calm  her. 

Meantime,  these  reports,  coming  to  the  hearing  of 
the  Princess,  served  to  confirm  her  in  her  belief  that 


THE   PRINCESS    LIKELIKE.  261 

she  was  the  chosen  victim  of  Pele's  anger.  The 
continued  slow  advance  of  the  great  lava  river  ~ 
the  destruction  of  lives  and  property ;  the  increase 
of  the  heat  and  smoke  and  the  growing  terror  of 
the  natives,  made  the  scene  in  Hilo  a  most  extraor 
dinary  one.  Night  was  literally  turned  into  day,  and 
the  sullen  booming  of  Pele's  breathing,  now  coming 
bursting  forth  more  and  more  rapidly  as  if  she  were 
growing  impatient  for  her  revenge,  added  greatly  to- 
the  superstitious  fright  of  the  people. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  of  February,  the  lava 
was  within  a  mile  of  the  town,  and  before  morning, 
would  reach  the  sea  and  destroy  Hilo  and  everything 
remaining  in  it.  The  place  was  deserted  :  not  a  soul 
dared  stay  upon  land,  but  the  bay  was  crowded  with 
boats,  themselves  crowded  with  people,  who  lingered 
near  to  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  their  homes.  The 
glare  from  the  molten  lava  lit  up  the  cloudy  skyr 
and  the  trade-winds,  blowing  the  smoke  up  the  moun 
tain,  left  the  scene  in  full  view. 

The  Princess,  in  spite  of  her  fixed  belief  that  she 
was  the  selected  object  of  Pele's  anger,  had  fled  with 
the  others  to  the  water,  and  was  seated  there  in  her 
canoe,  in  the  centre  of  a  large  fleet.  She  had  but  one 
attendant,  the  high  priest  Kanoa.  While  all,  white 
and  native,  were  watching  the  slow  advance  of  the 
lava  flow,  and  counting  the  minutes  until  it  should 
reach  the  sea,  two  figures  seated  in  a  small  canoe  were 
observed  making  their  way  swiftly  towards  the  land.  It 
was  not  until  they  had  passed  through  the  surf  and 
reached  the  beach,  that  the  Princess  Likelike  and, 
Kanoa  were  recognized. 


262  THE    HOME    OF    EVERLASTING    FIRE. 

The  two  paused  a  moment  there,  when  Kanoa 
handed  the  Princess  a  long  staff  of  bamboo,  upon 
which  was  fastened  the  idol  of  Wahokiho.  Holding 
this  high  above  her  head,  she  advanced  alone  through 
the  deserted  streets  of  Ililo,  straight  toward  the  flow, 
now  but  half  a  mile  away.  When  the  natives  saw  her 
approaching  the  deadly  stream  they  set  up  the  long 
mournful  death-wail,  and  chanted  the  song  sung  at 
the  dying  of  a  chief. 

"  Ue,  ue!  ua  make  kuu  alii 
Ua  make  kuu  haku,  kuu  boa; 
Kuu  lioa  i  ka  wa  o  ka  wi, 
Kuu  hoa  i  paa  ka  aina, 
Kuu  hoa  i  kuu  ilihune 
Kuu  hoa  i  ka  ua  me  ka  makani; 
*  Kuu  hoa  i  wela  a  ka  la 

Kuu  hoa  i  ka  ino, 
Kuu  hoa  i  ka  malie 
Kuu  hoa  i  na  kai  awalu; 
Ue,  ue!  na  hala  kun  hoa, 
Aole  e  hoi  hou  mai. " 

And  as  this  chant  arose  from  the  singers  in  the 
boats  the  Princess  walked  on  steadily  through  the  town 
toward  the  lava,  bearing  the  idol  high  above  her  head; 
and  louder  and  louder  rose  the  wailing  from  the 
water. 

While  all  were  watching  her,  a  quick  change  in  the 
wind  swept  the  smoke  back  down  the  mountains,  over 
the  bay,  and  the  figure  of  the  Princess  disappeared 
behind  the  black,  enveloping  clouds.  The  wailing 
ceased  and  all  gazed  at  the  spot  where  she  had 
last  been  seen.  At  this  moment,  there  came  hurrying 
down  the  mountain  the  long,  low  sigh  of  Pele's 


THE    END.  263 

breathing ;  it  ended  with  a  shock,  and  those  who  were 
looking  saw  the  opening  in  the  mountain,  through 
which  the  lava  had  been  flowing,  grow  dark  as  the 
edges  of  the  gash  were  drawn  together.  The  eruption 
was  over,  and  Hilo  and  its  inhabitants  were  saved. 

That  night  the  land  was  visited  by  a  tremendous 
storm.  The  lightning  was  incessant  and  the  rain  fell 
in  sheets,  cooling  the  crust  of  the  lava  into  stone;  and 
in  the  morning  the  people  returned  to  their  lovely 
village  and  began  again  their  life  of  lazy  indifference. 

ALOHA ! 


Ho  er  mans 


MJL61718 


H459 


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